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AUTHOR: 


FROTH  INGHAM, 
OCTAVIUS  BROOKS 


TITLE: 


THE  RISING  AND  THE 

SETTING  FAITH  AND  . 

PUi  CE: 

NEW  YORK 

DA  TE: 

1878 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIOS 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negntive  if 


I3inLIOCRAPIIIC  MICROrORM  TARH ET 


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TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DATA 

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DATE      l'ILMED:___.r7.iV INITIAIS  ( 1^  P 

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MRNUFnCTURED  TO  FIIIM  STRNDnRDS 
BY  RPPLIED  IMAGE,  INC. 


THE    RISING 


AND 


THE   SETTING    FAITH 


AND 


OTHER     DISCOURSES 


BY 


O,   B.   FROTHINGHAM 


NEW    YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

182  Fifth  Avenue 

1878 


•»f 


CONTENTS. 

The  Mission  of  the  Radical  Preacher,  . 
The  Rising  and  the  Setting   Faith,    . 
The  Unbelief  of  the  Believers, 
Why  does  the  Popular  Rbligion   Prevail  ? 
Formal  Religion  and  Life, 

The  Sectarian  Spirit, 

The  Dogma  of  Hell,  ..... 
The  Higher  Sentiments.         .         .         .         . 
Attitudes  of  Unbelief,       .... 

The  Office  of  Prayer, 

The  American  Gentleman, 

The  American  Lady.        .         .         .         .         . 


I 

43 
67 

89 

III 

139 

153 

185 
207 

229 
251 


\mm^ 


( 


C>  O  ^j  ''^ 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL 

PREACHER. 


i 


I  am  to  speak  this  morning  on  the  mission  of  the 
radical  preacher.  The  first  question  is  whether  the 
radical  preacher  has  any  mission  ;  for  this  is  asserted 
and  challenged.  One  said  to  me  lately,  "  Why  do 
you  preach  ?  What  right  have  you  to  preach  ?  You 
have  no  creed ;  you  speak  with  no  authority  ;  you 
claim  no  revelation  ;  you  stand  in  no  apostolic  suc- 
cession ;  you  have  no  inspired  word  ;  you  claim  to 
have  no  special  call ;  you  are  where  you  are  by  no 
supernatural  invitation,  by  no  unseen  commission. 
You  are  simply  one  whose  opinion  weighs  for  what 
it  is  worth,  whose  words  stand  for  the  amount  of 
truth  that  lies  behind  them,  whose  assertion  is  for- 
tified perhaps  by  character,  possibly  by  intelligence, 
perad venture  by  knowledge,  but  surely  by  these  alone, 
by  nothing  beyond  or  above  these,  and  by  these,  no 
more  than  they  are  possessed  by  any  body  else  in 
the  community.  Why  then  do  you  stand  on  Sun- 
day in  the  sacred  place  and  in  the  sacred    fashion 


2  THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 

and  preach?"  The  argument  springs  from  this 
ground,  that  nothing  remains  but  science,  and  that 
the  domain  of  science  is  bounded  and  limited  by 
the  actual  methods  and  procedures  which  have  been 
instituted  so  far ;  and  the  objection  pushed  to  its 
limit  would  go  to  this  extent,  that  there  must  be  no 
reading  of  ancient  scripture,  no  spoken  aspiration, 
no  outlook  of  faith  or  hope,  no  sentiment  of  trust ; 
that  the  understanding  alone,  the  intellect  must  be 
the  instrument  that  addresses  whatever  object  is 
addressed. 

Let  us  consider  this  a  moment.  Is  it  so?  If  it 
is  so  then  of  course  the  radical  must  retire  from  his 
platform  and  no  longer  assume  the  form  of  speech 
which  he  does  assume  when  he  calls  himself  a 
preacher.  All  our  preaching,  all  the  traditions  of 
christian  preaching,  in  all  denominations,  in  all  sects, 
come  from  the  Hebrew  prophets.  The  Hebrew 
prophet  was  first  and  last  foremost  and  always  a 
preacher.  He  was  not  a  prophesyer ;  he  was  not  a 
necromancer  or  a  soothsayer.  It  was  not  his  busi- 
ness to  foretell  future  events,  to  say  what  was  likely 
to  come  to  pass  at  any  day  more  or  less  distant ;  he 
did  not  bring  a  special  message  which  any  other 
man  who  was  illumined  by  righteousness  could  not 
find.  He  inspected  not  the  entrails  of  beasts  ;  he 
studied  not  the   motions  of  the  stars  ;    he  felt  not 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER.  3 

the  force  of  planetary  influences ;  he  was  simply  a 
man  who  stood  up  as  any  other  man  was  at  liberty 
to  do  and  speak  the  words  that  came  to  his  heart 
and  conscience  to  utter.  An  educated  man  he  was, 
would  naturally  be.  A  trained  man  he  usually  was, 
— always  was  when  he  arrived  at  eminence.  He 
might  be  a  politician,  or  a  man  of  business,  or  a 
teacher ;  he  might  be  a  statesman ;  he  might  be 
even  a  priest,  layman  or  ecclesiastic,  it  mattered  not  ; 
what  made  him  a  prophet  was  his  power  to  preach, 
to  utter  the  word  out  of  his  heart. 

His  word  was  very  simple.  It  consisted  of  these 
few  articles:  first,  a  belief  in  Jehovah  the  God  of 
Israel,  a  divine  personal  being,  who  sat  and  governed 
the  world  from  his  throne,  having  about  him  his 
messengers  and  armies,  sending  them  hither  and 
thither  to  do  his  will  or  carry  his  message.  Israel 
was  his  chosen  people ;  the  land  and  domain  of 
Israel  was  the  chosen  field  of  his  operations.  He 
kept  his  eye  on  Israel,  mapped  out  its  destiny, 
marked  its  fortunes,  determined  in  his  own  mind  to 
raise  it  to  the  summit  of  power,  of  glory,  of  peace 
and  of  felicity.  He  had  promised  that  whosoever 
should  be  faithful  to  his  law  as  given  on  Sinai 
should  be  happy  in  worldly  goods,  in  length  of  life, 
in  the  health  of  himself,  his  family,  his  children ; 
moreover,  should  inherit,  one  day  when  the  Messiah 


4  THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PAEACHER. 

should  come,  the  glories  of  the  kingdom  which  con- 
sisted in  the  restoration  of  Israel  to   the   fulness  of 
its  rights  and  privileges.     On  the  other  hand,  whoso- 
ever disobeyed  the    law    of    Jehovah,   whoever   was 
indifferent  to  it,  wandered  away  from   it,  turned  his 
back  on   it,  disregarded   it   in  large   instances  or  in 
small,   would   be    punished    by   loss  of  fortune,   by 
shortness    of    days,    diminution    of    happiness,    the 
crossing  of  his  endeavors,  loss  of  his  children  and 
forfeiture   of    right   in   the  great    future  when    the 
glorious  coming  of  the  kingdom  should  be  revealed, 
to  the  place  that  belonged   to  the   pious   Israelites. 
This  was  the  whole  creed ;  these  were  absolutely  all 
the  articles.     This  ancient  preacher  of  the  Hebrews 
moved  upon  no  high  transcendental  plain  ;  his  views 
covered  temporal  things  alone.     He  had   no   regard 
to  a  celestial  or  a  supernatural  bliss,  to  a  disembod- 
ied felicity.     It  never  entered  his  thought  to  predict 
a  time  when  men  and  women  who  lived  in  the  worid 
should    be    transported    to    another    sphere.      He 
believed  the  kingdom  would  come  on  earth,  would 
be  an  earthly  reign,  with  a  visible   throne,  a  visible 
king  sitting  upon  it,  with  banners  and  men  of  war. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  prophet  was  that  he  believed 
this ;  that  he  believed  it  with  all  his  heart ;  that  he 
was'fuU  of  it ;  that  he  lived  in  it ;  that  his  whole 
conscience  and  soul  were  bound  up  in  it.     He  had 


I 

i 


1 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER.  5 

the  gift  of  speech,  fluent,  kindling,  eloquent,  swift, 
by  which  he  could  reach  the  hearts  of  others,  could 
teach  their  minds,  and  could  recall  them  at  any  time 
to  their  allegience.  This  was  the  creed  of  the  He- 
brew prophet,  the  only  creed  he  had,  and  this  was 
his  only  commission, — the  commission  of  a  believing 
man  to  utter  what  he  believed. 

The  prophet  stood  opposed  to  two  classes  in  the 
Hebrew  community.  On  the  one  side  were  the 
priests;  on  the  other  side  the  men  of  letters.  He 
was  opposed  to  the  priests,  because  the  priests 
simply  stood  by  the  altar,  offered  sacrifices,  received 
offerings  and  passed  up  to  the  Lord  the  gifts  that 
his  people  brought.  He  was  always  there ;  always 
stationary  and  conservative.  It  was  not  his  business 
to  speak.  He  was  no  preacher.  He  was  a  formalist. 
He  stood  in  the  same  place  all  the  time  and  went 
through  the  same  ceremonies  year  after  year.  A 
new  order  of  priests  came  in  as  the  old  order  was 
removed  by  death.  There  stood  the  temple  ;  there 
was  the  altar.  Year  by  year,  age  by  age,  sacrifices 
of  all  kinds  were  brought ;  blood  was  shed ;  atone- 
ment was  made  ;  sacraments  were  performed.  That 
was  the  priest's  office.  The  priest  was  a  conserva- 
tive ;  not  a  man  of  ideas,  but  a  man  of  institutions. 
The  prophet  was  opposed  to  the  priest,  be- 
cause the  prophet  was  a  reformer,  a  man  of  ideas, 


1 


m  THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 

feelings  and  purposes.  He  was  an  educator  and 
stimulator  of  the  people ;  fluent,  elastic,  open,  he 
received  the  word  from  the  heart  and  let  it  pass 
through  him  into  the  nation.  The  consequence  was 
that  while  he  was  a  reformer  pushing  forward, 
the  priest  was  standing  still  and  keeping  things 
backward. 

On  the  other  side,  the  men  of  letters, — the  scribes, 
as  they  were  called, — dwelling  altogether  with  books 
and  traditions,  were  spelling  out  the  letters  of  the 
scripture,  interpreting  the  written  word,  having  no 
heart  in  it  possibly,  putting  no  soul  into  it,  never 
speaking  except  in  the  dry  technical  way  of  the 
lecturer.  They  sat  in  the  seat  and  doled  out  to  men 
the  information  that  they  were  in  search  of.  They 
were  learned  men.  They  knew  all  that  any  body 
knew  at  that  time.  They  were  nice  critics  and 
could  interpret  to  a  hair  the  meaning  of  texts  and 
chapters,  but  there  was  no  living  soul  in  them. 
They  never  kindled,  they  never  inspired,  an  impulse  ; 
they  never  set  the  heart  aflame. 

There  were  thus  in  Israel,  two  institutions ;  the 
institution  of  the  temple,  the  home  of  priesthood, 
where  stood  the  altar,  where  were  observed  the 
great  festivals  and  fast  days,  where  were  brought 
the  sacrifices ;  on  the  other  side  the  Synagogue,  an 
open    place,  corresponding   in   all    respects   to   our 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER.  7 

places   of   worship.     They   were   places   where   the 
teacher  or  preacher  sat  or  stood.     People  came  and 
went ;  anybody  could  speak  who  was  able  ;  any  body 
who  had  a  word  to  utter  could  utter  it  and  was  wel- 
come.    The  Synagogue,  free  to  all,  kept  alive  and 
glowing  the  traditions  of  the  Hebrew  faith.     In  the 
time  of  Jesus,  the  Synagogue  was  the  source  of   all 
inspiring  thought.     Thus  we  read  that  when  he  was 
ready  to  teach  himself,  he  entered  the  Synagogue  at 
Nazareth — not  the  Temple.     The  Temple  was  the 
priest's  only.     Nobody  went  into  the  Temple  except 
the  priest  who  made  the  sacrifices;  Jesus  went  into 
the   Synagogue    which   was   free   to   anybody,  and 
opened  the  book  which  anybody  had  a  right  to  open. 
He  was  a  new  man.     Nobody  knew  him  except  as 
the  carpenter's  son.     He  was  untaught   in   learning 
of  the  schools.     He  belonged  to  no  line  of  priests ; 
but  he  had  as  much  right  there  as  any.     He  opened 
the  book  at  a  prophetic  passage,  and  said  **  This  day 
the  word  is  fulfilled  in  your  ears."     Then  he  began 
to  utter  the  discourse  which  set  the  hearers  aflame. 
Christianity  was  born,  not  in  the  Temple  among 
the  priests,  but  in  the  Synagogue.     Paul,  as  he  went 
from  city  to  city,  went  to  the  Synagogues  where  the 
Jews  met  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  to  hear  what- 
ever word  might  by  spoken,  to  listen  to  any  man 
who  might  have  the  right  to  speak  it.     The  Syna- 


8 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL     PREACHER. 


gogues  were  planted  all  over  the  civilized  world. 
There  was  not  a  city  in  Asia  Minor  and  scarcely  a 
city  in  Europe  in  which  the  Jews  had  not  their 
Synagogue.  Paul  went  there,  found  them  full,  spoke 
the  word  of  his  heart,  was  listened  to ;  the  torch 
was  passed  from  Synagogue  to  Synagogue,  from 
congregation  to  congregation,  gaining  in  power  and 
freshness  as  it  went,  until  the  new  faith,  that  is  the 
new  interpretation  of  the  old  faith,  (for  Christianity 
is  simply  Judaism  baptized  anew — Judaism  with  a 
soul  put  into  it)  until  this  new  faith  began  to  sway 
the  empire.  It  was  through  this  preaching,  it  was 
through  the  eloquent  line  of  men  who  stood  one 
after  another  and  delivered  the  word  that  was  given 
to  them,  the  old  word  that  was  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting,  that  the  empire  was  finally  conquered. 

Come  now  to  Romanism.  Romanism  is  a  priestly 
system.  Rome  has  the  temples,  built  not  for  preach- 
ing, but  for  the  administration  of  rites,  ceremonies, 
and  sacraments.  There  stands  the  Temple  ;  there 
are  lofty  arches  ;  there  are  spaces  where  the  pomp  of 
procession  can  move  freely  and  untrammelled.  The 
sermon  is  next  to  nothing.  In  a  larger  part  of  the 
service  there  is  no  preaching ;  you  cannot  hear  the 
sermon  in  a  temple.  You  cannot  hear  a  sermon  in 
any  cathedral  in  Europe.  They  are  too  large,  they 
are  not  meant  for  the  human  voice. 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE     RADICAL    PREACHER. 


When  Protestantism  first  came  in  it  was  necessary 
for  Romanism  to  recall  the  believers  to  their  alle- 
giance. Then  too,  it  sent  out  preachers.  The 
preaching  order  came  up,  and  their  business  was 
what  ?  Simply  to  reach  the  heart,  to  kindle  the 
soul,  to  influence  the  imagination  and  to  revive  in 
the  breasts  of  the  believers  the  faith  they  were  for- 
getting. Lutheranism  gained  the  day.  Rome 
became  a  priesthood  once  more.  Protestantism 
was  identified  with  preaching.  Protestantism  began 
with  preaching,  continued  with  preaching,  had  all  its 
power  in  preaching,  owed  its  successes  to  preaching. 
Luther  came  out  of  the  temple ;  Protestantism  left 
the  cathedral,  built  smaller  houses  where  the  human 
voice  could  be  heard,  where  individual  speech  would 
tell,  took  away  the  altar,  remodeled  the  ecclesiastical 
structure  and  made  it  suitable  to  this  purpose  of 
gathering  together  freely  great  congregations  of  peo- 
ple, to  be  waked  up  by  a  living  word.  The  truth  was 
the  same ;  the  ideas  were  the  same.  Luther's 
thoughts  were  the  old  sacred  thoughts.  Luther's 
doctrine  scarcely  differed  in  substance  from  the 
Catholic  doctrine,  but  it  was  a  word  in  the  heart. 
It  was  made  a  matter  of  conscience  and  spirit,  come 
freshly  to  the  soul  of  man ;  this  was  his  authority  to 
speak ;  this  was  the  authority  of  all  Protestants  to 
speak. 


lO 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


The  Church  of  England  is  an  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tion; Episcopacy  is  an  ecclesiastical  institution. 
Outside  of  that  is  Congregationalism,  Presbyterian, 
ism,  both  of  which  believe  in  preaching.  And  the 
power  of  Christendom,  the  real  power  of  Christendom 
to-day,  is  not  in  the  priest  who  administers  the  sacra- 
ment, performs  the  rites,  but  in  the  preacher  who 
stands  up  before  the  congregation  and  fills  them, 
not  with  himself,  but  with  the  glow  and  fire  of  the 
everlasting  truths  which  are  ]only  represented  by  the 
priest. 

This  being  so,  we  see  precisely  where  the  preacher 
always  stands,  what  his  commission  always  is,  and 
wherein  consists  the  truth  of  the  call  that  he  receives. 

Take  away  the  imagination ;  take  away  feeling, 
impulse,  fancy,  earnestness,  reduce  every  thing  to 
science,  to  the  understanding,  to  pure  intellect,  and 
what  have  we?  Education,  knowledge,  the  lecture 
room,  the  school,  the  art  gallery;  but  are  these 
enough?  The  popular  doctrine  of  to-day  is  that 
education  is  enough  ;  that  if  we  could  educate  every- 
body, everybody  would  be  good  ;  that  if  we  could  send 
all  the  boys  and  girls  to  school,  we  should  be  sure  of 
justice  in  the  state  and  kindness  in  society  ;  that  there 
would  be  at  once  an  increase  of  purity,  truth  and  earn- 
estness throughout  the  community.  The  great  thing, 
we  are  told,  is  to  teach ;  to  teach  science,  to  com- 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


II 


municate  facts,  to  convey  knowledge  to  mankind,  to 
overcome   ignorance   and    superstition.      These,  we 
are  told  perpetually,  are  the  obstacles  to  all   human 
progress.      Obstacles   they   are,   most   undoubtedly. 
Are  they  the  only  obstacles  ?     Where  is  the  connec- 
tion between  knowledge  and  earnestness  ;  between 
scientific   facts  and   moral   enthusiasm ;    between    a 
perfect  familiarity  with  things  as  far  as  they  can   be 
understood,  and  an  appreciation  of  the  great  princi- 
ples   that    sweep    through    communities    and  carry 
multitudes  of  men  away?     Does  it  follow  that  be- 
cause a  man    knows   all    about   the    history  of    the 
planet  he  lives  on   that  therefore   he  will  be  inter- 
ested in  the    future   of    humanity   on    the   planet? 
Does  it  follow  that  because  a  man   knows  all  about 
social   science,   the   conditions  of  life,  the   methods 
and    plans   by    which    men    are   advanced    in    their 
temporal    welfare,   that    therefore    he    will    devote 
himself  to  advancing  their  welfare  ?     Does  it  follow 
that  a  man  who  gives  his  strength  to  the  acquisition 
of   facts    in    regard    to  the  constitution   of    society, 
will  therefore  be  interested  in  the  progress  of  society? 
The  physician  understands  the  human  frame.     He 
is  a  master  of  physiology.     We  will  suppose   that 
he  knows  all  the  connections  of   different   parts  of 
the  human  system  ;   that  he  knows  the  ofifices  of  the 
bones,  the  blood,  the  tissues,,  the.  nerves ;    that  he 


12 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER, 


knows  what  affects  for  better  or  for  worse  those 
parts ;  that  he  knows  what  pulls  down  and  what 
builds  up.  Is  he  of  necessity  true  to  his  knowledge  ? 
Does  the  physician,  of  whatever  school,  of  whatever 
sect,  abstain  from  all  those  practices  or  habits  of 
life  that  degrade  the  human  system?  Does  he  him- 
self observe  the  laws  of  life  ?  Is  he  an  enthusiast 
for  temperance,  a  champion  of  purity?  We  know 
very  well  that  conspicious  instances  to  the  contrary 
are  to  be  found  among  eminent  physicians.  It 
is  a  remarkable  fact  that  bare  knowledge,  a  mere 
acquaintance  with  facts,  does  not  imply  moral  ear- 
nestness enthusiasm  or  zeal  in  social  causes.  There 
is  no  connection  between  scientific  schools  and 
moral  enthusiasm,  any  more  than  there  is  between 
the  study  of  geometry  and  the  health  that  one  gets 
at  a  gymnasium.  Education  is  good,  entirely  good 
in  its  place ;  but  it  must  be  supplemented  with 
something  more,  or  its  place  is  not  fulfilled.  We  are 
confronted  with  statistics  which  show  that  crime  and 
ignorance  go  hand  in  hand  together ;  that  where 
ignorance  exists  crime  abounds ;  that  the  fullest 
prisons,  the  most  plethoric  alms-house  and  asylums 
are  in  the  most  untaught  populations.  Very  true, 
so  far;  but  is  not  this  also  true,  that  in  close  associ- 
ation with  crime  is  found  not  ignorance  alone,  but 
filth,  close  atmosphere,  bad  ventilation,  unclean  linen  ? 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


13 


Why  not  say  that  crime  is  due  to  these  as  w^ell  as  to 
ignorance? 

Again,  side  by  side  with  these  facts  which  prove 
that  ignorance  is  the  source  of  crime,  stands  another 
class  of  facts  which  prove  that  knowledge  is  the 
source  of  crime  of  a  different  kind  and  order.  The 
knowledge  that  merely  sharpens  the  intellect,  puts 
the  criminally-minded  into  possession  of  a  larger 
class  of  resources,  opens  to  him  new  ways  of  escape, 
makes  his  ingenuity  greater  and  thus  encourages 
crime.  The  crime  that  outrages  society  most  is  not 
the  crime  of  the  vulgar  and  illiterate  ;  it  is  the  crime 
of  the  wise,  the  trained,  the  wary,  the  astute,  the 
men  who  can  travel  without  making  tracks  or  who 
cover  them  up  when  made,  the  men  whom  educa- 
tion has  supplied  with  the  tools  of  iniquity.  There 
are  such  men.  It  is  not  true  then,  as  a  fact,  that 
education  alone,  mere  instruction  is  enough  to  guar- 
antee the  goodness  of  any  class  of  mankind.  Her- 
bert Spencer  who  is  one  of  the  prophets  of  the 
modern  world,  the  most  eminent  prophet  perhaps, 
in  social  science,  is  especially  impassioned  on 
these  points.  He  often  leaves  his  usual  even  tone 
of  exposition  and  rises  into  eloquence  when  he  de- 
scribes the  entire  inadequacy  of  mere  knowledge, 
mere  school  education,  mere  instruction  in  the  data 
of  life  to  enable  men  to  live  nobly  and  generously. 


14 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


No,  he  says,  you  must  have  a  new  nature,  a  new 
impulse,  a  fresh  feeling;  you  must  have  a  tide  of 
enthusiasm  set  through  you  before  you  can  do  any- 
thing great.  Whence  is  to  come  this  ?  Not  from 
scientific  schools,  not  from  the  lecture  room,  but 
from  the  living  heart,  the  awakened  conscience,  the 
inflamed  and  inspired  intelligence  of  the  man  of 
ideas,  of  the  preacher. 

And  does  not  the  radical  preacher  have   precisely 
the  same  ideas,  the  same  fundamental   truths   that 
any  preacher  ever  had  ?     I  do  not  say  the  same  inci- 
dental details  of  doctrine ;    I   do   not   say  the   same 
dogmas ;  I  do  not  say  the  same  systems  of  opinion  ; 
I    say  the    same    ideas,   the    same    kindling    radical 
principles  that  the   old    Hebrew  prophets   had?     It 
seems  to  me  that  he  has.     The  Hebrew  prophet  had 
as  his  cardinal   and  first  idea  that   of  Jehovah,  the 
personal  God.     The  radical   preacher  has   not   that. 
His  idea  of  the  creative  power  does  not  correspond 
with  the   Hebrew  definition   of  the  Jehovah  ;   is  not 
the  same  with  the  triune  God  of  the  Christians,  who 
administers  the   affairs   of  a   church   on   the   earth  ; 
is  not  the  same  with  the  theist's  God— the  individual 
personal   conscience    who   sits   aloft   and    listens    to 
prayers,  and  administers   the   affairs   of   the  world 
according  to  the  movement  of  intelligent  will.     The 
Radical  has  no  definition  ;  he  does  not  venture  on  a 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


15 


written  definition.  He  will  not  define  or  confine 
the  infinite.  He  has  no  interpretation  which  he  can 
accept  or  impose  upon  anybody  else  ;  but  the  substance 
of  the  idea  he  holds  in  a  manner  so  transcendental, 
grand,  vast  and  beautiful  that  the  others  dwarf  them- 
selves into  utter  insignificance.  The  Hebrew  Jeho- 
vah seems  to  him  a  fanciful  and  fantastical  idea ; 
the  Christian's  triune  deity  is  limited ;  and  the 
theist's  conception  of  the  personal  God  is  bounded. 
The  radical  believes  in  the  universal  law,  omnipotent 
omnipresent,  sweeping  through  the  world,  adminis- 
tering the  least  things,  controlling  the  greatest, 
holding  close  relations  between  you  and  me,  holding 
in  the  hollow  of  its  hand  all  the  affairs  of  all  the 
nations  of  the  globe.  This  idea  of  law,  material, 
intellectual,  spiritual,  comprehends  everything,  all 
the  domain  of  reason,  all  the  domain  of  hope,  so 
♦vast  that  no  faith  can  scale  its  heights,  so  tender  that 
one  can  lie  like  a  child  on  its  bosom,  so  mighty  and 
majestic  that  nobody  need  be  afraid  that  it  cannot 
overcome  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  highest 
and  noblest  advance.  This  idea  of  law,  the  radical 
has  it, — has  it  as  nobody  else  has  it ;  has  it  supremely ; 
has  it  every  hour ;  calls  upon  science  to  illuminate 
it,  to  make  it  larger  and  more  intelligible  ;  calls 
upon  men  to  deal  with  facts,  to  bring  forward  facts 
upon    facts,  the  more   of  them    the   better.     We  do 


l6  THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 

not  know  enough,  not  a  thousandth  part  as  much  as  we 
need  to  know  about  the  close,  pUable,  elastic  move- 
ment of  this  omnipresent  spirit  for  which  we  have 
no  fitting  name,  which  comprehends  all  definitions 
of  deity,  which  takes  them  all  up  and  dismisses  them 
iis  the  mere  chaff  and  husk  of  dogma  ;  which  will  at 
last  reign  supreme  over  them  all,   ever  living,  ever 
quickening  the  inspiration  of  every  great  soul.     The 
radical  preacher  believes  that  to  appreciate  this  idea, 
to  obey  it,  to  submit  to  it,  to  take   it   heartily  in,  to 
live  by  it,  to  make  it  the  controlling  influence  over 
all  deeds  and  actions,  is  to  be  inspired,  is  to  be  lifted 
out  of  ones-self.     Therefore,  having  this  conviction, 
and  feeling  it  in  his  heart,  he  speaks,  and  speaking, 
he  has  the  same  authority  precisely  that  the  Hebrew 
prophet   had,  the  same   that   Jesus    had,    the   same 
that  Paul  had,  the  same  that  the  long  line  of  Apos- 
tles has  had,  the  same  that  the  builders  of  the  church* 
in  the  Roman  Empire  had,  the  same  that   preachers 
to-day  have  who  bring  the  living  word. 

The  great  preachers  of  to-day  do  not  differ  so 
much  in  the  radical  idea  as  is  often  supposed.  The 
greatest  preacher  of  the  last  generation  in  England 
was  Thomas  Carlyle  a  man  of  unsurpassable  elo- 
quence, a  man  whose  words  made  our  hearts  glow 
and  tingle  three  thousand  miles  away  ;  a  man  whose 
writings  we  read  now  with  a  kindling   impulse,  feel- 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


17 


ing  as  we  read  them  that  we  are  more  and  better 
than  we  supposed  we  were.  Carlyle  rejected  the 
Jewish  system,  rejected  the  Christian  system,  never 
went  to  church,  never  offered  a  sacrifice,  never 
bowed  his  head  to  a  priest ;  but  he  had  a  profound 
sense  in  him  of  this  original  creative  force  which 
men  have  in  past  times  tried  to  define  but  could  not; 
and  it  was  out  of  that  conviction  that  he  wrote  and 
spoke  his  burning  words. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson   the   greatest   preacher  in 
America,  left  the  pupit  when  very  young  but   has 
been  in  a  larger  pulpit  ever  since,  has  always  been 
preaching  and   has  felt    that    the   vocation    of    the 
preacher  was  the  greatest  of  vocations.     Read   his 
writings  and  you  will  see  how  underneath   his  ap- 
parently most  radical  utterances  runs  this  system  of 
faith  in  the  invisible  and  eternal.     Every  now  and 
then  we  come  upon  a  passage  which  reminds  us  of 
the  old  testament ;  every  now  and  then  we  come  up- 
on a  passage  which  carries  us  still  farther  back  into  the 
remote  lands   of   the    East   and   calls   up   inspiration 
that  the  greatest  spirits  had  under  the  mountains  of 
Himelaya  five  or  six  thousand  years  ago.     Hence 
we  perceive   that   the  radical   preacher  of  to-day, — 
and  there  is  no  more   radical   preacher  than    Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson, — has  the  same  inspiration,  coming 
from  the  same  cardinal  ideas  that   lighted   up  the 


i8 


THK    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


souls  of  the  Hebrew  prophets  three  thousand  years 

ago. 

Another  idea  he  has  which  is  the  same, — the  idea 
of  the  close  connection  between  cause  and  effect, — 
this  old  deep  faith  that  things  follow  according  to 
certain  fixed  principles,  not  by  chance.  If  you  do 
wrong,  according  to  the  wrong  you  do  will  be  the 
calamity  that  will  come  upon  you.  If  you  cheat 
you  will  be  cheated  ;  if  you  steal  you  will  lose  just 
as  much  as  you  steal ;  if  you  lie  you  discredit  yourself 
just  in  the  proportion  in  which  you  lie  ;  if  you  com- 
mit an  act  of  violence  invisible  hands  strike  a  blow  at 
you,  just  as  severe,  just  as  strong  as  the  one  you  dealt ; 
if  you  trample  upon  your  neighbor  a  crushing  power 
tramples  you  into  the  dust.  Fastening  the  chains 
around  others  is  inviting  invisible  hands  to  fasten 
the  same  chain  around  your  own  neck.  You  cannot 
do  a  mischief,  you  cannot  perpetrate  a  guilt  that  does 
not  return  upon  you.  And  by  the  very  laws  of 
creation,  if  you  do  a  good  thing,  speak  a  good  word, 
exchange  a  kind  or  gentle  thought,  that  comes  back 
to  you  ;  that  performs  its  office  and  meets  with  its 
reward.  Nobody,  as  we  understand  the  universe  to- 
<jay — nobody  ever  escapes  the  consequences  of  his 
character.  It  used  to  be  supposed  that  one  could. 
Now  we  know  that  one  cannot.  Feel  this;  take 
this  to  heart,  and  at  once   the   infallible  expression 


THE    MISSION    OK    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


19 


jumps  to  the  lips  ;  and  the  men  who  can  feel  this, 
who  can  keep  people  perpetually  in  mind  of  it,  who 
can  warm  their  feelings  so  that  they  shall  be  conscious 
of  a  new  influence  upon  their  practical  life,  have  a 
perfect  right  to  do  it.  I  say  have  a  perfect  right  to 
do  it ;  nay,  more,  I  say  have  a  call  to  do  it. 

One  more  thought :  the  radical  preacher  shares 
with  all  the  great  preachers  of  the  world  this :  that 
men  are  more  than  they  seem  to  be  ;  that  human 
creatures  are  in  the  germ,  and  that  latent  within  every 
created  being  lie  capacities  and  power  undeveloped, 
which  may  start  into  new  existence.  We  know 
what  we  are  ;  which  of  us  knows  what  he  may  be- 
come ?  We  know  what  we  can  do  to-day ;  which 
of  us  knows  what  he  may  be  able  to  do  to-morrow  ? 
We  are  weak,  trembling,  ignorant,  doubting,  fearing  ; 
we  seem  to  be  creatures  of  chance  and  circumstance, 
bound  in  the  prison  of  fate,  unable  by  any  effort  of 
ours  to  move ;  and  yet,  who  knows  at  what  moment 
an  impulse  may  drop  into  his  mind  from  some 
unseen  quarter,  that  shall  make  him  new  entirely? 
Wc  are  like  islanders  inhabiting  a  small  precinct 
that  we  can  walk  around  and  survey  from  end  to 
end ;  all  about  us  flows  a  vast  ocean,  dotted  with 
fleets  of  ships  going  this  way  and  that.  Perhaps 
one  of  these  passing  vessels  that  we  look  out  upon 
as  they  go  by,  may  bring  us  a  message.     It  may  be 


20 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL    PREACHER. 


THE    MISSION    OF    THE    RADICAL     PREACHER. 


21 


a  message  of  fear  that  shall  chill  the  blood  ;  it  may 
be  a  message  of  joy  that  shall  raise  us  in  a  moment 
into  ecstasy.  No  matter  what  it  is ;  it  will  be  the 
spark  dropping  inside  of  us  which  shall  reveal  to  us 
what  we  are.  A  keg  of  gunpowder  is  a  black  mass, 
inert,  foul,  sooty ;  what  is  it  worth  ?  What  can  it 
do  ?  Scatter  it  about,  it  is  nothing  ;  it  is  no  where. 
Drench  it  with  water,  it  is  dead.  Drop  into  it  a 
spark,  the  least  spark,  and  at  once  the  sky  is  filled 
with  flame.  Houses  are  shaken  at  their  basis;  the 
noise  travels  over  miles  of  territory,  wakening  peo- 
ple from  their  midnight  slumber. 

The  great  ages  of  the  world  have  always  been 
ages  of  impulse,  enthusiasm,  belief.  The  ages  that 
built  the  great  cathedrals  of  Europe  ;  that  carried 
Europe  into  Asia,  on  the  fiery  columns  of  the  cru- 
sades, were  ages  of  faith.  It  dies.  We  see  the 
monuments ;  we  do  not  understand  the  power ;  and 
yet  we  to-day — we  men  and  women — are  all  that 
these  men  and  women  were.  The  minds  that  reared 
the  European  cathedrals  were  as  weak  as  ours.  The 
men  that  swept  over  Europe  and  deluged  the  plains 
of  Asia  with  their  blood,  and  snatched  the  holy 
sepulchre  from  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  had  only 
human  hearts  within  them.  I  am  perpetually  ex- 
pectant of  some  great  idea,  force,  impulse  which 
may  light  upon  our  communities  and  transfigurate 


them.  Who  knows  when  it  shall  come  to  the  mul- 
titude or  to  anyone?  Not  you;  not  I.  It  is  the 
preacher's  office, — the  radical  preacher's  office, — to 
keep  men's  minds  and  hearts  and  spirits  in  close 
contact  wi-th  this  realm  of  ideas  ;  to  make  hope 
pure  ;  to  make  life  sweet,  expectation  noble,  purpose 
grand  and  human.  That  is  his  office — his  single 
solitary  office ;  this  is  the  office  of  the  radical  preacher 
as  much  as  of  the  orthodox. 

Some  years  ago  I  stood,  before  sunrise,  upon  the 
summit  of  Mount  Washington.  The  whole  world 
was  wrapped  in  vapor.  There  zvas  no  world.  We 
could  see  nothing.  It  was  impossible  to  see  the 
friend  who  was  a  few  feet  away.  We  clung,  each  of 
us,  to  a  mass  of  rock,  seeing  that  on  which  our 
hands  were  laid,  but  nothing  beside.  The  wind 
howled  around  us,  the  dark  mist  drenched  our 
clothing.  We  stood  there  waiting  for  the  day. 
Suddenly  up  from  chaos,  out  of  the  invisible,  came 
a  great  red  orb,  and  the  first  beam  fell  like  a  glitter- 
ing sword  upon  the  ocean  of  mist.  At  once  we 
could  see  it  disappear.  The  mountain  tops,  one 
after  another,  came  out.  Green  intervales  were  re- 
vealed. The  sunny  slopes  were  picked  out  of  chaos. 
Birds  began  to  sing  in  the  air;  cattle  began  to  low 
on  the  plains ;  the  hills  and  v^ales  were  created. 
Then  for  the  first   time,  by  the  help  of    the  glass, 


22 


THE    MISSION     OK      THK    KADICAI.    PREACHKR. 


we  could  discern  the  little  villages,  the  distant  cities 
below  just  coming  to  life.  Our  friends  were  no 
longer  specters,  but  living  forms.  The  figures  of  the 
horses  that  brought  us  thither  came  out  of  the 
shade,  and  we  heard  their  glad  neigh  as  day  dawned 
upon  them  too.  We  all  felt  our  manhood  again. 
We  came  to  life.  Our  hearts  were  new  born.  Day 
after  day  the  sunbeam  retouches  and  regenerates  the 
world.  Like  that,  coming  upon  the  human  mind 
drenched  in  the  mists  and  vapors  of  ignorance,  in- 
difference, passion,  idleness  and  superstition,  may 
come  this  warm  ray  of  faith,  hope,  trust,  love  :  and 
the  human  world,  thanks  to  those  who  bring  the 
sunlight,  awakens  to  a  consciousness  of  its  better 
destiny. 


THE    RISING 


AND 


THE    SETTING    FAITH 


It  is  my  custom  on  opening  each  new  season  of 
Sunday  services,  to  choose  a  theme  which  shall   be, 
as  it  were,  the  keynote  of  the  services  which  are  to 
follow,— to  lay  a  foundation,  if  I  may  so  say,  for  the 
principles  of  the  subsequent  teaching.      It  seems  to 
me  that  this  morning  I   can   do  no   better  than   to 
speak  of  the  new  faith  in  its  relation  to  the  old,  and 
to  contrast  them  as  the  rising  and  the  setting   faith. 
This  will  seem  to  some  an  audacious   classification  : 
it  will  seem  to  a  great  many  unreasonable.     It  will 
seem  to  most,  perhaps,  fanciful  and  affected.     For 
by  the  setting  faith,  what  do   I   mean   but  the   pro- 
fessed faith  of  Christendom,  and  by  the  rising  faith, 
what  do  I  mean  but  the   faith   professed  by  a  few 
handfulls  of  people  here  and  there  in  the  chief  cen- 
tres of  the  civilized  world  }     By  the  setting  faith    I 
mean  the  faith  that  at  present  rules   over  the  most 
enlightened  portion  of  the  civilized  world  ;  the  faith 
that  is  instituted  and  crowned,  that  controls  unlimited 
wealth,  and   brings  to  their  knees  the  fashionable 


24  THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 

multitudes  of  the  earth— the  faith  that  is  in  posses- 
sion of  a  dogma  that  has   lasted  a  thousand  years, 
and  still  in  one  form  or  another  commands  the  as- 
sent of    the  best    minds;    the   faith    that    numbers 
temples  by  thousands,  that  plants  and   sustains  vast 
establishments    of    learning    and    of    charity;    the 
faith  that  ordains  ministers  by  the  tens  of  thousand, 
that  without   the  slightest   misgiving  or   hesitation 
erects  its  banner  in  waste  lands  and  calls  heathen  of 
all  climes  to  submit  to   its  Christ.     This   I   presume 
to  call  the  setting  faith,— the  system  that  is  passing 
away.     It  may  be  a  thousand  years  or  more  before 
it  shows  to  all  eyes  the  unmistakable   signs  of  decay. 
But  the  sentence  has  gone  forth,  and  the  process  of 
decomposition  has  begun. 

The  inhabitants  of  a  country  house  which  stood  in 
the  midst  of  trees,  were  startled  from  their  beds  at 
the  dead  of  night  by  a  fearful  crash  of  thunder  which 
followed  instantaneously  on  a  flash  of  lightning,  so 
vivid  as  to  tear  their  eyes  open  and  set  their  whole 
world   in   flames.     Springing   from   their  beds,  by  a 
single  impulse,  they  met  face  to   face  in  the  central 
hall  and  looked  at  each  other  in  blank  amazement, 
with  pale  faces  and  shuddering  eyes  !     What  does  it 
mean,  they  whispered  ?  is  the  house  struck?     In  a 
ew  minutes  they  had   satisfied  themselves   that   no 
harm  was  done,  and  they  retired  to  their  rest.     The 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


25 


next  morning  an  inquisition  was  made  into  the  con- 
dition of  the  barns  and  out-houses  and  the  trees 
about  the  house.  Everything  stood  safe.  Nothing 
was  injured.  But,  very  early  in  the  Autumn,  before 
another  tree  had  shown  a  sign  of  decay,  a  lovely 
maple  that  stood  on  the  lawn  displayed  the  red  flag 
of  death  on  its  highest  peak.  For  this  it  was  ad- 
mired the  more.  It  had  anticipated  the  loveliness  of 
the  Autumn.  The  favorite  tree  had  seen  afar  off 
the  coming  splendor  of  the  Fall,  and  announced  it 
before  any  of  its  tall  companions  had  made  the  dis- 
covery. The  glory  was  enhanced.  The  following 
Spring,  however,  when  the  leaves  of  all  other  trees 
were  green,  the  leaves  of  the  pretty  maple  were 
thin,  pale  and  backward.  In  the  succeeding  Autumn, 
long  before  any  other  tree  in  the  wood  had  thought 
of  decay,  disease  had  eaten  half  way  down ;  and  in 
another  year  the  tree  had  to  be  removed.  The  flash 
of  lightning  that  glared  on  that  summer  night  had 
penetrated  the  root  and  blasted  one  of  the  suckers 
which  fed  its  life.  So  it  may  be  with  a  proud  insti- 
tution, a  dogma,  a  group  of  dogmas,  a  system  that 
looks  grand  and  stately.  The  smallest  doubt,  the 
hidden  fear,  the  discovered  truth  may  be  a  worm 
that  eats  into  its  very  core.  It  may  therefore  be  no 
extravagance  to  speak  of  the  old  faith  as  the  setting 
faith.     Though  it  still  rules;   though  still  it  sends 


26 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


out  its  missionaries  and  builds  temples  and  conse- 
crates churches  and  ordains  pastors ;  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  the  worm  of  decay  may  have  penetrated 
into  its  heart. 

By  the  rising  faith,  let  me  repeat,  I  mean  this  little 
babe  in  the  manger,  puny  and  feeble,  its  very  life 
seemingly  precarious  ;  an  infant  yet,  but  that  is  to 
be  a  man,  who  will  carry  the  sword  of  the  spirit  in 
his  hand,  and  wear  the  helmet  of  salvation  on  his 
head,  and  for  many  a  day  rule  nations  in  life  and 
in  glory. 

What  is  the  characteristic  of  the  old  faith  that  is 
passing  away  ?  I  will  describe  it  in  a  single  word  ; 
it  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  details  of  definition. 
All  the  sects  of  Protestantism  agree  substantially 
with  Romanism,  and  all  Christendom  is  one  in  ac- 
cepting a  single  article  with  innumerable  variations 
of  definition  and  emphasis  of  incidental  structure 
and  doctrinal  grouping,  each  variation  being  the 
peculiarity  of  a  sect.  There  is  one  cardinal  propos- 
ition fundamental,  primary  and  universal ;  it  is  the 
authority  of  the  Christ  as  Lord  and  Savior.  Debate 
as  they  may  on  all  the  rest,  here  the  sects  come  to- 
gether ;  here  the  many  are  one.  Faith  in  the  Christ ; 
— faith  in  the  Christ  as  corner  stone  and  pillar, — 
this  characterizes  Christendom.  What  does  that 
/aith  imply  ?     What  does  it  imply  to  depend  on  the 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


27 


Christ  for  answers  to  life's  questions,  for  relief  in 
life's  difficulties,  for  refuge  amid  life's  perplexity, 
for  redemption  from  life's  sin  ?  What  does  it  mean  ? 
It  means  helplessness,  imbecility  in  man  ;  it  means 
the  invalidity  of  human  affection,  the  powerlessness 
of  natural  conscience,  the  impotence  of  mortal  will ; 
it  means  that  man  is  not  master  of  his  fate  in  this 
world  or  in  any  other  ;  that  he  has  no  answer  for  the 
question  that  presses  nearest  to  his  heart ;  that  he 
cannot  work  his  own  way  out  of  his  perplexities, 
can  do  nothing  of  deepest  concern  for  himself,  can 
found  no  institution  that  will  last,  can  build  no 
creeds  that  are  to  endure  ;  that  he  is  a  waif,  wholly 
astray  on  the  ocean  of  existence,  floating  like  a  bit 
of  drift  wood  upon  the  tempest-tossed  surface  of  life. 
Faith  in  Christ  implies  that  the  world  is  all  illusion, 
that  life  is  not  intrinsically  worth  living;  that  the  in- 
terests of  mankind  are  not  worthy  to  engage  the  inter- 
est of  immortal  souls ;  that  the  labors  we  endure  bring 
no  satisfaction  ;  that  the  prizes  we  strive  for,  the  aims 
we  have  in  view,  the  enemies  we  wrestle  with  are 
illusions,  spectres,  dreams ;  that  there  is  but  one 
thing  worth  seeking,  salvation  from  hell  in  the  world 
to  come;  that  life  is  vanity ;  its  pursuits  vexatious, 
its  pleasures  cheats,  its  achievements  vapid,  its  suc- 
cesses disappointing ;  that  the  more  you  have  of  the 
world's  goods  the  poorer  you  are.     What  is  wealth  } 


2S 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


— What  is  power? — What  is  knowledge? — What  is 
grandeur?  Nothing,  possibly  less  than  nothing. 
The  poorer  you  are,  the  richer ;  the  stupider  you  are, 
the  wiser;  the  weaker  you  are,  the  stronger;  the 
more  impotent  and  imbecile  you  are,  the  more  sure 
of  the  crown  and  sceptre.  This  is  the  implication, 
— the  unavoidable  implication, — because  he  that 
absolutely  depends  on  another  thereby  confesses  his 
inability  to  depend  on  himself;  he  that  makes  it  his 
life  rule  and  principle  to  cast  his  burden  upon  an- 
other, disowns,  puts  by,  discards  the  qualities  which 
might  help  him  bear  his  own  burdens,  fight  his  own 
battles,  take  up  his  own  cross. 

Let  me  repeat  my  conviction  that  this  faith  in 
Christ,  this  system  which  builds  on  the  Christ,  call 
it  by  what  name  you  will,  call  it  Protestantism,  call 
it  Romanism,  call  it  Christianity,  is  passing  away. 
Here  are  some  of  the  signs  of  its  decay  : 

It  has  lost  its  hold  on  the  cultivated  classes  of 
modern  society.  The  chief  men  of  letters,  the 
widest  scholars,  the  recognized  leaders  in  science, 
the  chiefs  of  reform  have  quietly  dropped  it.  The 
men  who  occupy  to-day  the  highest  seats  in  philos- 
ophy, reason  about  it,  classify  it,  put  it  where  they 
think  it  belongs,  render  it  the  honor  that  belongs  to 
it  as  a  phenomenon  in  history,  and  a  significant 
phase  of  the  world's  thought ;  but  they  do  not  sub- 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


29 


mit  their  minds  to  it.  They  may  do  something  to  up- 
hold its  institutions  ;  they  may  be  members  of  the  visi- 
ble church  ;  they  may  devoutly  recite  the  Pater-no.ster 
and  the  creed ;  but  during  the  week,  as  they  write 
and  think,  as  they  study  and  read,  as  they  grapple 
with  the  problems  of  the  intellectual  and  social 
world,  they  make  no  reference  to  this  old  theolog- 
ical system.  They  look  elsewhere  for  the  light  that 
is  to  be  their  guidance  ;  for  the  law  that  is  to  be 
their  strength.  Philosophy  is  not  with  them  synony- 
mous with  Christianity  ;  philosophy  is  synonymous 
with  science  and  the  broad  generalizations  of  reason 
by  which  the  departments  of  knowledge  are  grouped 
together.  Aquinas  and  Erigena  are  not  christian 
to-day.  It  is,  therefore,  no  exageration  to  say  that 
the  system  which  builds  on  Christ,  has  lost  its  influ- 
ence over  the  leaders  of  mind  in  Europe,  in  Eng- 
land and  America.  Count  over  the  thinkers  that 
vou  know,  the  chief  writers,  the  men  that  distin- 
i^uish  themselves  most  in  modern  literature,  in  med- 
icine,  in  law,  in  science,  in  business,  in  reform,  and  you 
will  find  that  scarcely  one  in  ten  confesses  himself 
to  be  a  hearty  adherent  of  this  system.  It  has  rece- 
ded from  the  upper  levels  of  intelligence.  The  same 
classes  of  people  that  fought  for  it  aforetime,  that 
worked  for  it,  lived  and  died  for  it,  men  of  thought 
and  eainest  conviction,  are  not  believers  to-day. 


^o 


THE    RISING    AND    THK    SETTING     FAITH. 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


31 


Cast  a  glance  at  the  other  extreme  of  society ; 
look  at  the  working  classes,  the  artisans,  the  toilers 
on  land  and  sea;  the  men  who  are  getting  their 
livelihood  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  has  the 
system  its  ancient  hold  on  them  ?  Take  the  strikers 
of  this  last  summer ;  probably  every  man  of  them 
was  educated  in  the  christian  scheme  ;  some  as 
Catholics,  others  as  Protestants,  —Methodists,  Bap- 
tists, Presbyterians, — doubtless,  on  the  Sabbath, 
they  are  accustomed  to  pay  a  certain  respect  to  the 
usages  of  religion  ;  -but  what  effect  had  the  religion 
upon  them  when,  goaded  by  a  sense  of  injustice  and 
wrong,  ignorant  if  you  will,  impetuous,  misled, 
passionate,  they  rebelled  against  society?  Did  they 
consult  their  religious  teachers?  Did  they  take 
lessons  of  the  Christ  ?  Did  they  submit  themselves 
to  the  authority  of  the  New  Testament,  which  bade 
them  give  the  coat  to  him  who  had  taken  the  cloak  ? 
Did  they  seek  first  the  *'  kingdom  of  heaven  ? " 
Did  they  rejoice  in  their  persecutions,  looking  for 
their  reward  in  heaven  ?  They  listened  to  the  so- 
cialists of  the  old  world  or  of  the  new  who  had  been 
educated  in  ideas  that  the  church  disavows  and  de- 
nounces. Six  days  in  the  week,  the  working  men 
of  the  world,  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  with  their 
minds  unfed,  clutch  at  such  principles  as  they  can  lay 
hold  of,  believe  as  they  go  along,  but   let   the  New 


Testament  lie  unopened  on  the  shelf,  never  going  to 
the  priest  unless  to  escape  the  taxes  he  imposes 
because  they  do  not  duly  make  confession  of  sin. 

Thus  at  the  two  extremes  of  society,  the  most 
cultivated  and  the  least  cultivated, — those  who  are 
leading  the  advance  of  the  intellectual  world  and 
those  who  have  not  yet  entered  upon  it, — we  see 
that  the  ancient  system,  so  rich,  so  powerful,  has 
lost  its  hold. 

Another  indication  of  decay  is  ^/le  decline  of  the- 
ology,— a  decline  that  is  marked  and  universal,  that 
is  even  participated  in  and  rejoiced  in  by  believers 
and  teachers  of  the  old  faith.  It  is  the  fashion  now 
among  orthodox  people  too,  to  disparage  theology. 
"•  Do  not  preach  theology,"  is  the  charge  given  to 
the  young  minister  as  he  takes  his  ordination  vows. 
''  It  is  barren,  rootless  and  unfruitful.  The  people 
do  not  care  for  it ;  nobody  knows  anything  about  it. 
It  is  a  mass  of  dry  bones  ;  a  skeleton ;  let  it  rest.'* 
Mr.  Beecher  in  Brooklyn,  tells  his  congregation,  so 
the  reporter  says,  that  they  will  hear  little  or  no 
theology  from  him  ;  that  he  has  nothing  to  say  about 
the  trinity,  the  deity  of  the  Christ  or  the  atonement ; 
his  ministry  is  practical.  Mr.  Moody  the  revivalist, 
— the  most  successful  revivalist  of  the  century — 
keeps  his  theology  in  the  back-ground.  It  is  there, 
— visibly  there   to  discerning  minds, — but  he  does 


30 


THE    RISING    AND    THK    SETTING    FAITH. 


Cast  a  glance  at  the  other  extreme  of  society ; 
look  at  the  working  classes,  the  artisans,  the  toilers 
on  land  and  sea;  the  men  who  are  getting  their 
livelihood  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  has  the 
system  its  ancient  hold  on  them  ?  Take  the  strikers 
of  this  last  summer ;  probably  every  man  of  them 
was  educated  in  the  christian  scheme ;  some  as 
Catholics,  others  as  Protestants, — Methodists,  Bap- 
tists, Presbyterians, — doubtless,  on  the  Sabbath, 
they  are  accustomed  to  pay  a  certain  respect  to  the 
usages  of  religion  ;  -but  what  effect  had  the  religion 
upon  them  when,  goaded  by  a  sense  of  injustice  and 
wrong,  ignorant  if  you  will,  impetuous,  misled, 
passionate,  they  rebelled  against  society?  Did  they 
consult  their  religious  teachers?  Did  they  take 
lessons  of  the  Christ  ?  Did  they  submit  themselves 
to  the  authority  of  the  New  Testament,  which  bade 
them  give  the  coat  to  him  who  had  taken  the  cloak  ? 
Did  they  seek  first  the  "  kingdom  of  heaven  ? " 
Did  they  rejoice  in  their  persecutions,  looking  for 
their  reward  in  heaven  ?  They  listened  to  the  so- 
cialists of  the  old  world  or  of  the  new  who  had  been 
educated  in  ideas  that  the  church  disavows  and  de- 
nounces. Six  days  in  the  week,  the  working  men 
of  the  world,  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  with  their 
minds  unfed,  clutch  at  such  principles  as  they  can  lay 
hold  of,  believe  as  they  go  along,  but   let   the  New 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH- 


31 


Testament  lie  unopened  on  the  shelf,  never  going  to 
the  priest  unless  to  escape  the  taxes  he  imposes 
because  they  do  not  duly  make  confession  of  sin. 

Thus  at  the  two  extremes  of  society,  the  most 
cultivated  and  the  least  cultivated,— those  who  are 
leading  the  advance  of  the  intellectual  world  and 
those  who  have  not  yet  entered  upon  it, — we  see 
that  the  ancient  system,  so  rich,  so  powerful,  has 
lost  its  hold. 

Another  indication  of  decay  is  the  decline  of  the- 
ology, — a  decline  that  is  marked  and  universal,  that 
is  even  participated  in  and  rejoiced  in  by  believers 
and  teachers  of  the  old  faith.  It  is  the  fashion  now 
among  orthodox  people  too,  to  disparage  theology. 
''  Do  not  preach  theology,"  is  the  charge  given  to 
the  young  minister  as  he  takes  his  ordination  vows. 
''  It  is  barren,  rootless  and  unfruitful.  The  people 
do  not  care  for  it ;  nobody  knows  anything  about  it. 
It  is  a  mass  of  dry  bones  ;  a  skeleton ;  let  it  rest.'* 
Mr.  Beecher  in  Brooklyn,  tells  his  congregation,  so 
the  reporter  says,  that  they  will  hear  little  or  no 
theology  from  him  ;  that  he  has  nothing  to  say  about 
the  trinity,  the  deity  of  the  Christ  or  the  atonement ; 
his  ministry  is  practical.  Mr.  Moody  the  revivalist, 
— the  most  successful  revivalist  of  the  century — 
keeps  his  theology  in  the  back-ground.  It  is  there, 
—visibly  there   to  discerning  minds, — but  he  does 


32 


THE    RISING     AND    THK    SKTTINC;     FAITH, 


not  choose  to  call  attention  to  it.     He  addresses  the 
heart,  not  the  head.     He  avoids  controversy  with 
rationalists,   enters  on   no   argument   with  skeptics, 
takes  the  dogmas  for  granted  as  admitted   truths, 
but  keeps  them  in  the  back-ground   and   puts   emo- 
tion   foremost.      This    indifference    to    speculative 
theology  and  practical  avoidance  of  it  is  commonly 
regarded  as  a  sign  that  genuine  religion  is  advanc- 
ing; is  leaving  the  cloister  and  going  into  the  camp  ; 
is  dropping  the  rudiments  of  its  childhood  and  going 
on   to  perfection.      Is  the   sign    rightly   construed? 
Theology  is  the  intellectual  foundation  of   the   relig- 
ion.     Without   its    theology,    there    would    be    no 
foundation  for  it.     The  doctrine  of   the  Trinity,  of 
the  Christ,  of  the  incarnation,  of  the  atonement,  are 
absolutely  necessary  to   the  spiritual  energy   of  the 
faith  ;  to  drop  them  out,  to   disparage  them,  to  say 
they  are  past  and  gone  and  are  of  small   account,  is 
simply  to  say  that  the  heart  of  the  religion  is  eaten  out. 
that  the  bony  structure  of  the  system  is  paralyzed, 
How  long  will  a  human  being  live  with  a  dry  rot  in 
his  bones?  A  confession  of  the  weakness,  the   irrel- 
evancy, the  uselessness  of  theology  is  a  confession 
that  the  dry  rot   has    touched    the   substance    and 
structure  of  the  faith. 

Notice  again  what  everybody  confesses,  the   fact 
that  our  common  life,  our  popular  life,  social,  politi- 


THE   RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


3:^ 


cal,  scientific,  commercial,  is  not  run  upon  christian 
principles.  The  merchant  does  not  take  his  maxims 
of  business  from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount;  the 
statesman  and  the  politician  do  not  go  to  the  clergy- 
man to  know  how  they  are  to  organize  a  party  or 
construct  a  policy.  All  the  institutions  of  society 
proceed  upon  different  grounds,— upon  grounds  of 
common  wisdom  and  prudence,  of  human  sagacity 
and  knowledge.  The  church  does  not  meddle  with 
government  or  education.  The  suggestion  that  it 
should  would  provoke  rebellion. 

Will  you  say  that  the  religion  is  as  vital  now  as  it 
has  ever  been  ;  that  there  never  was  a  time  when 
men  lived  out  Christianity?  Grant,  simply  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  that  there  never  was  a  time  when 
there  was  not  a  gulf  which  could  not  be  bridged 
over  between  the  profession  and  the  life,  between 
the  creed  and  the  conduct,  still,  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  those  were  times  when  the  alliance  be- 
tween creed  and  conduct  was  less  required  than 
now  ;  when  it  was  currently  professed  and  generally 
understood  that  the  office  of  religion  was  not  to 
make  life  over,  to  organize  society  on  sound,  ra- 
tional principles,  to  remould  institutions,  to  recon- 
struct governments  ;  that  the  office  of  religion  was 
to  effect  redemption,  to  save  the  individual  soul  from 
the  pains  of  hell,  in  the  hereafter.    Men  might,  within 


^ 


34 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


certain  wide  limits,  behave  as  they  would ;  if  they 
believed,  their  future  was  secure.  That  time  has 
gone  by.  Ours  is  an  earnest  age.  If  there  is  one 
characteristic  of  our  time  beyond  the  times  that 
have  gone  before,  it  is  sincerity.  Men  must  live  up 
to  what  they  believe.  If  you  profess  a  faith,  show 
that  you  profess  it ;  do  your  business  upon  it.  Are 
you  a  statesman  ? — let  the  statesmanship  attest  the 
faith.  Arc  you  a  politician? — show  your  faith  by 
the  cast  of  your  politics.  Are  you  a  merchant  ? — 
let  your  type  of  honesty  and  integrity  conform  to 
the  principles  that  you  profess.  It  will  not  do  in 
these  days  to  divorce  the  Sunday  from  the  week  ; 
it  will  not  do  to  live  one-seventh  part  of  the  time 
in  Jerusalem  and  the  other  six-sevenths  in  New 
York.  You  must  live  all  your  life  in  one  place.  If 
your  life  is  modern  so  must  your  faith  be. 

A  friend,  two  or  three  days  ago,  told  me  of  one 
he  knew  who  was  guilty, — openly  guilty  of  vile  and 
deceitful  practices  ;  who  pursued  them,  being  fully 
aware  of  their  character  as  estimated  by  the  stand- 
ard morals  of  the  community.  He  was  at  last 
arrested,  convicted  and  punished  by  confinement  in 
the  penitentiary  ;  but  even  then,  he  did  not  have 
the  conviction  of  his  turpitude  burned  into  his 
heart.  Yet  this  man  was  all  the  time  a  devout 
professor    of    religion,    impassioned   and    fluent    in 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH.  35 

prayer,  easily  melted  to  tears  by  religious  consid- 
erations, most  eloquent  in  his  outpourings  of  piety 
to  the  ''  throne  of  grace."  He  did  not  see  the  in- 
congruity between  this  ovcrgush  of  emotion  and 
the  daily  life  he  was  leading.  But  that  is  not  the 
rule  to-day.  Such  people  were  more  frequent 
once  than  now.  In  these  days  they  are  reckoned 
monsters.  We  expect  an  entire  and  close  allegiance 
between  creed  and  conduct.  Is  that  the  case  to-day 
in  Christendom  ?  Why,  look  at  the  surface  of 
the  Christian  world,  covered  with  pauperism  and 
crime ;  see  the  vast  military  establishments ;  con- 
template the  wars;  wars  of  religion,  in  which  the 
Prince  of  Peace  is  called  on  to  bless  banners. 
Think  of  all  this  and  then  read  the  New  Testament ; 
think  of  all  this  and  then  call  up  the  sweet  image  of 
the  Christ.  Can  you  put  such  opposite  things  to- 
gether? The  prevalence  of  this  bitter  fact  in  the 
world  shows  that  the  old  faith  has  lost  its  power. 

Once  more :  another  sign  of  decay  is  the  grozving 
tendency  to  substitute  humanity,  kindness  of  heart, 
charitableness,  philanthropy,  for  faith.  This  too,  is 
regarded  as  a  sign  that  religion  is  increasing  in  in- 
tensity and  power.  To  me,  it  is  a  sign  that  it  is 
losing  its  characteristic  intensity  and  power;  that 
it  is  abandoning  its  supernatural  ground.  If  the 
humanity  were  christian  in   spirit,  if  the  effort  was 


34 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


35 


certain  wide  limits,  behave  as  they  would  ;  if  they 
believed,  their  future  was  secure.  That  time  has 
gone  by.  Ours  is  an  earnest  age.  If  there  is  one 
characteristic  of  our  time  beyond  the  times  that 
have  gone  before,  it  is  sincerity.  Men  must  live  up 
to  what  they  believe.  If  you  profess  a  faith,  show 
that  you  profess  it ;  do  your  business  upon  it.  Are 
you  a  statesman  ? — let  the  statesmanship  attest  the 
faith.  Are  you  a  politician? — -show  your  faith  by 
the  cast  of  your  politics.  Are  you  a  merchant? — 
let  your  type  of  honesty  and  integrity  conform  to 
the  principles  that  you  profess.  It  will  not  do  in 
these  days  to  divorce  the  Sunday  from  the  week  ; 
it  will  not  do  to  live  one-seventh  part  of  the  time 
in  Jerusalem  and  the  other  six-sevenths  in  New 
York.  You  must  live  all  your  life  in  one  place.  If 
your  life  is  modern  so  must  your  faith  be. 

A  friend,  two  or  three  days  ago,  told  me  of  one 
he  knew  who  was  guilty, — openly  guilty  of  vile  and 
deceitful  practices  ;  who  pursued  them,  being  fully 
aware  of  their  character  as  estimated  by  the  stand- 
ard morals  of  the  community.  He  was  at  last 
arrested,  convicted  and  punished  by  confinement  in 
the  penitentiary;  but  even  then,  he  did  not  have 
the  conviction  of  his  turpitude  burned  into  his 
heart.  Yet  this  man  was  all  the  time  a  devout 
professor    of    religion,    impassioned   and    fluent    in 


,-j 


■;-i 


prayer,  easily  melted  to  tears  by  religious  consid- 
erations, most  eloquent  in  his  outpourings  of  piety 
to  the  **  throne  of  grace."  He  did  not  see  the  in- 
congruity between  this  overgush  of  emotion  and 
the  daily  life  he  was  leading.  But  that  is  not  the 
rule  to-day.  Such  people  were  more  frequent 
once  than  now.  In  these  days  they  are  reckoned 
monsters.  We  expect  an  entire  and  close  allegiance 
between  creed  and  conduct.  Is  that  the  case  to-day 
in  Christendom?  Why,  look  at  the  surface  of 
the  Christian  world,  covered  with  pauperism  and 
crime ;  see  the  vast  military  establishments ;  con- 
template the  wars;  wars  of  religion,  in  which  the 
Prince  of  Peace  is  called  on  to  bless  banners. 
Think  of  all  this  and  then  read  the  New  Testament ; 
think  of  all  this  and  then  call  up  the  sweet  image  of 
the  Christ.  Can  you  put  such  opposite  things  to- 
gether? The  prevalence  of  this  bitter  fact  in  the 
world  shows  that  the  old  faith  has  lost  its  power. 

Once  more :  another  sign  of  decay  is  the  growing 
tendency  to  substitute  humanity,  kindness  of  heart, 
charitableness,  pJiilanthropy,  for  faith.  This  too,  is 
regarded  as  a  sign  that  religion  is  increasing  in  in- 
tensity and  power.  To  me,  it  is  a  sign  that  it  is 
losing  its  characteristic  intensity  and  power;  that 
it  is  abandoning  its  supernatural  ground.  If  the 
humanity  were  christian  in   spirit,  if  the  effort  was 


36 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


to  organize  society  upon  sinciXy  christian  principles, 
then  the  substitution  of  works  for  faith  would  be  a 
sign  of  vitality.  But  the  humanity  means  philan- 
thropy;  and  philanthropy  means  good  nature,  kind- 
ness, sweetness  of  heart,  compassion  ;  it  is  a  glorifi- 
cation of  those  natural  instincts  which  religion  has 
hitherto  put  under  its  foot  in  behalf  of  the  Christ. 
Hence  the  feeling  prevailing  through  Christendom 
in  favor  of  practical  benevolence  and  doing  good,  is 
a  concession  on  the  part  of  faith  to  the  natural 
instincts;  and  is  a  return  to  the  primitive  heresy 
which  the  "  Apostle  of  the  gentiles,"  the  founder  of 
Protestantism,  did  his  utmost  to  supplant. 

To  turn  from  the  old  faith  to  the  new,  it  is  true 
to  say  that  the  characteristics  of  the  new  faith, — the 
rising  faith, — are  as  simple  and  definite  as  those  of 
the  old  Its  first  peculiarity  is  the  absence  of  a 
superhuman  Christ.  It  has  no  incarnate  God,  no 
Savior,  no  Redeemer.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
the  believer  in  the  new  faith  may  not  profoundly 
reverence,  admire  and  love  Jesus,  the  man  Jesus  ; 
he  may,  but  not  as  the  Christ,  he  may,  but  only  as  he 
loves  other  exalted  leaders  of  the  human  race, — proph- 
ets, saints,  teachers,  reformers; — indeed  we  may  say 
that  the  new  faith  lavishes  its  praise  upon  those  ;  calls 
out  of  obscurity  some  that  have  been  thrust  into  ob- 
livion ;  challenges  reverence  for  many  who  have  been 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


37 


scorned,  and  reinstates  in  honor  many  a  noble  soul, 
whom  the  Christian  church  has  consigned  to  the 
outer  darkness.  The  new  faith  finds  its  inspired  men 
not  in  Christendon  alone,  nor  yet,  alone  in  Judaism  ; 
but  elsewhere  and  everywhere  that  mankind  have  en- 
deavored to  find  the  divine  law  and  to  lead  the  divine 
life.  The  new  faith  follows  the  shining  light,  wel- 
comes it,  presses  it  to  its  heart ;  but  it  has  no 
sacrificial,  mediating  Christ.  It  takes  no  individual 
out  of  the  race  to  crown  him  with  immortal  glory, 
and  set  him  up  aloft  as  the  Supreme  judge  and  con- 
troller of  human  destiny.  It  throws  the  charge  of 
his  salvation  upon  man  himself.  It  takes  for  granted 
human  ability  as  it  exists,  and  says  to  man  boldly 
*'  You  are  in  a  world  stored  with  knowledge :  find  it 
and  use  it.  You  are  in  a  world  crowded  with 
beauty  :  discover  it  and  rejoice  in  it.  You  are  in  a 
world  rich  with  elements  of  well  being :  make  your 
selves  masters  of  them.  You  live  in  a  world  where 
there  is  a  cure  for  every  human  ill :  discover  it  and 
apply  it  for  yourselves ;  learn  the  nature  of  the 
evil  and  the  value  of  the  remedy.  In  a  word,  the 
new  faith  believes  in  man, — not  as  he  is  now,  a  half- 
made,  puny  creature,  struggling  up  out  of  bestiality, 
— but  as  he  may  become,  in  the  possible  man,  the 
real  man,  the  essential,  fundamental ;  in  the  soul  of 
humanity    which    is    struggling    with    inertia    and 


38 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH, 


poverty,  in  all  hearts,  and  which  has  in  it,  if  any- 
thing has,  all  the  resources  necessary  for  reconstruct- 
ing society  and  redeeming  the  world  ;  has  power  to 
answer  all  questions  that  can  be  honestly  asked,  to 
solve  all  problems  that  are  fairly  submitted,  to  van- 
quish all  enemies  that  immediately  threaten  ;  power 
to  extract  order  and  good  will  out  of  the  rugged 
world  wherever  it  shows  itself  to  be  most  stubborn. 
The  new  faith  believes  in  this,  fixes  its  hope  upon 
it,  never  takes  its  eye  off,  sees  in  the  little  child  in 
the  manger  the  possible  man  whose  mature  strength 
shall  redeem  society. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  rising  faith  is  its 
interpretation  of  the  future, — its  theory  of  the 
hereafter.  It  does  not  discourage  the  belief  in  the 
hereafter.  So  far  from  denying  it  or  trying  to  over- 
throw it,  it  welcomes  all  fine  anticipations  of  it  and 
attempts  incessantly  to  ennoble  it.  Every  dearest 
hope  of  a  happy  future  for  man  it  cherishes  ;  but  it 
sets  the  future  in  new  relations  to  the  present.  The 
old  faith  puts  the  hereafter  by  itself,  makes  it  the 
culminating  centre,  the  rallying  point,  the  one 
scene  of  absorbing  interest,  the  one  event  to  be 
looked  forward  to,  an  overshadowing  contingency, 
dwarfing  this  life,  taking  the  vital  interest  out  of  it. 
Salvation  is  there.  Do  you  wish  peace,  justice, 
happiness  ?    Seek  them  not  here  ;  seek  them  beyond. 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH.  39 

The  gulf  of  death  lies  dark  and  wide  between  the 
two  spheres.  The  new  faith  allows  no  such  contrast. 
Its  believer  looks  to  the  hereafter  as  to  a  new  open- 
ing, a  fresh  scene ;  welcomes  it  as  another  chance, 
an  added  opportunity,  an  extention,  supplement  or 
appendix  to  this  world,  not  a  different  kind  of  life, 
but  simply  more  life  ;  not  a  contradictory  life,  but  a 
helping  one  ;  not  a  life  that  is  to  substitute  some- 
thing else  for  what  we  have  here,  but  a  life  that  is  to 
carry  out  to  further  fulfilment  the  best  things  we 
•  have  here.  You  see  then,  that  the  new  faith  centres 
its  interest  in  this  life  ;  that  the  interest  which  the 
other  life  has  for  it  consists  in  the  hope  that  it  may 
illumine,  consecrate,  dignify  and  ennoble  this,  even 
in  the  smallest  details.  To  deny  immortality,  there- 
fore, in  the  thought  of  the  new  believer,  is  to  limit 
the  range  of  life ;  that  is  all.  Such  denial  takes 
from  this  life  no  essential  quality ;  it  limits  all  its 
qualities ;  it  sets  a  term  for  it  which  it  may  not  pass 
over.  You  see  at  once  the  entirely  new  aspect  that 
is  given  to  the  faith  in  the  future;  you  see  at  once 
that  the  new  believer  in  immortality  is  essentially 
another  person  in  the  whole  structure  of  his  faith 
from  the  old  fashioned  believer  in  salv^ation. 

Think  again  of  the  unimportance  to  the  new  faith 
of  a  belief  in  the  supernatural.  It  does  not  rest  on 
the  supernatural ;  it  does  not  believe  in  it ;   it  makes 


38 


THE    RISING     AND    THK     SETIINC;     FAITH. 


poverty,  in  all   hearts,  and  which   has  in    it,    if    any- 
thing has,  all  the  resources  necessary  for  reconstruct- 
ing society  and  redeeming  the  world  ;  has  power  to 
answer  all  questions  that  can  be   honestly  asked,  to 
solve  all  problems  that  are  fairly  submitted,  to   van- 
quish all  enemies  that  immediately  threaten  ;   power 
to  extract  order  and  good  will   out   of    the   rugged 
world  wherever  it  shows  itself  to  be  most   stubborn. 
The  new  faith  believes  in  this,  fixes  its   hope   upon 
it,  never  takes  its  eye  off,  sees  in  the   little  child    in 
the  manger  the  possible  man  whose  mature  strength 
shall  redeem  society. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  rising  faith  is  its 
interpretation  of  the  future, — its  theory  of  the 
hereafter.  It  does  not  discourage  the  belief  in  the 
hereafter.  So  far  from  denying  it  or  trying  to  over- 
throw it,  it  welcomes  all  fine  anticipations  of  it  and 
attempts  incessantly  to  ennoble  it.  Every  dearest 
hope  of  a  happy  future  for  man  it  cherishes  ;  but  it 
sets  the  future  in  new  relations  to  the  present.  The 
old  faith  puts  the  hereafter  by  itself,  makes  it  the 
culminating  centre,  the  rallying  point,  the  one 
scene  of  absorbing  interest,  the  one  event  to  be 
looked  forward  to,  an  overshadowing  contingency, 
dwarfing  this  life,  taking  the  vital  interest  out  of  it. 
Salvation  is  tJicrc.  Do  you  wish  peace,  justice, 
happiness  ?    Seek  them  not  here ;  seek  them  beyond. 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH.  39 

The  gulf  of  death  lies  dark  and  wide  between  the 
two  spheres.  The  new  faith  allows  no  such  contrast. 
Its  believer  looks  to  the  hereafter  as  to  a  new  open- 
ing, a  fresh  scene ;  welcomes  it  as  another  chance, 
an  added  opportunity,  an  extention,  supplement  or 
appendix  to  this  world,  not  a  different  kind  of  life, 
but  simply  more  life ;  not  a  contradictory  life,  but  a 
helping  one  ;  not  a  life  that  is  to  substitute  some- 
thing else  for  what  we  have  here,  but  a  life  that  is  to 
carry  out  to  further  fulfilment  the  best  things  we 
have  here.  You  see  then,  that  the  new  faith  centres 
its  interest  in  this  life  ;  that  the  interest  which  the 
other  life  has  for  it  consists  in  the  hope  that  it  may 
illumine,  consecrate,  dignify  and  ennoble  this,  even 
in  the  smallest  details.  To  deny  immortality,  there- 
fore, in  the  thought  of  the  new  believer,  is  to  limit 
the  range  of  life ;  that  is  all.  Such  denial  takes 
from  this  life  no  essential  quality ;  it  limits  all  its 
qualities  ;  it  sets  a  term  for  it  which  it  may  not  pass 
over.  You  see  at  once  the  entirely  new  aspect  that 
is  given  to  the  faith  in  the  future;  you  see  at  once 
that  the  new  believer  in  immortality  is  essentially 
another  person  in  the  whole  structure  of  his  faith 
from  the  old  fashioned  believer  in  salvation. 

Think  again  of  the  unimportance  to  the  new  faith 
of  a  belief  in  the  supernatural.  It  does  not  rest  on 
the  supernatural ;  it  does  not  believe  in  it ;   it  makes 


40 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


no  account  of  it ;  it  does  not  implore  for  gifts,  for  it 
expects  no  answer  to  its  petition.  George  Muller, 
who  is  at  present  lecturing  in  this  neighborhood, 
believes  that  he  sustains  a  large  Orphan  Asylum  in 
England  purely  by  prayer.  Of  the  dimensions  of 
the  asylum  there  is  no  manner  of  doubt.  There  is 
evidence  enough  of  that.  It  is  an  immense  estab- 
lishment. Its  founder  declares  that  he  never  asked 
a  shilling,  never  sent  round  a  subscription  paper, 
never  made  his  wants  known,  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  an  individual ;  when  he  was  in  need  he  prayed, 
and  the  needed  supplies  came.  Does  the  money 
give  out?  he  prays  and  the  coffers  are  filled  ;  are 
his  orphans  unclothed  or  unfed,  he  drops  on  his 
knees  and  clothing  is  left  at  the  door,  food  is  stored 
in  the  larder.  George  Muller  is  an  honest,  sincere, 
fervent,  devoted  man, — a  man  perfectly  simple  in 
the  whole  cast  of  his  mind  and  feeling.  He  believes 
this  with  all  his  heart.  And  who  shall  undertake  to 
prove  that  his  belief  is  unfounded?  How  do  we 
know  that  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  does  not  drop  a 
helping  thought  into  the  minds  of  charitable  people 
and  suggest  to  them  the  sending  of  aid?  I  cannot 
disprove  it  ;  no  one  can  disprove  it.  It  may  be  true. 
But  the  new  faith  cannot  by  any  possibility  believe 
it  to  be  true  ;  the  new  faith  is  quite  inaccessible  to 
argument    on  this  question.     The   new   believer    is 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING     FAITH. 


41 


perfectly  certain  that  the  Orphan  Asylum  sup- 
ported by  George  Muller  is  supported  as  all  other 
orphan  asylums  are,  as  all  human  institutions  are, 
by  the  good  will  of  men  and  women  who  obey 
humane  impulses.  They  know  of  the  institution  by 
report ;  they  are  charitably  disposed  ;  they  believe 
that  Muller  is  engaged  in  a  good  work,  and  they 
wish  to  help  him.  By  such  strange  co-incidences 
c^s  may  happen  at  any  time,  it  frequently  occurs  that 
help  comes  at  the  very  moment  it  is  needed  ;  but 
that  the  means  are  purely  natural — natural  desires, 
natural  motives,  natural  benevolences, — the  believer 
in  the  new  faith  believes  as  he  believes  in  his  own 
existence. 

You  will  ask,  does  the  rising  faith  undertake  to  do 
the  work  of  the  setting  faith  ?  Does  the  new  faith 
meet  the  needs  which  the  old  faith  met  ?  No,  this  is 
not  claimed  ;  the  need  of  a  sufficient  consolation 
for  every  ill  of  life,  the  need  of  a  divine  answer  for 
every  question  we  can  raise,  the  need  of  absolute 
certainty  on  every  point  whereof  we  are  ignorant,  the 
need  of  a  perfect  guarantee  of  felicity  in  the  here 
after,  the  need  of  an  omnipotent  and  omniscient 
friend  at  our  side  in  every  moment  of  human  expe 
rience, — no,  the  new  faith  does  not  claim  to  be  able 
to  give  this.  It  meets  the  needs  of  to-day.  It  is 
the    child   of    to-day;    and    in    to-day    it    lives.       It 


42 


THE    RISING    AND    THE    SETTING    FAITH. 


answers  the  questions  of  to-day, — not  the  questions 
of  a  thousand  years  ago  or  a  thousand  years  to 
come.  It  grapples  with  the  needs  of  to-day,  and  not 
the  needs  of  the  last  century.  It  ministers  to  the 
sorrows  of  men  and  women  now  living  and  suffering, 
not  of  the  men  and  women  who  groaned  and  sor- 
rowed a  century  or  more  in  the  past. 

Every  age  has  its  own  necessities  ;  every  genera- 
tion raises  its  own  questions.  Our  doubts,  if  genu- 
ine, are  new ;  our  enemies,  if  urgent,  are  new ;  let 
us  be  satisfied  to  have  a  faith  that  serves  our  turn, 
w4iether  it  will  serve  our  neighbor's  turn  or  not. 
Let  Christendom  work  its  own  system  for  its  own 
purpose  ;  let  us  work  our  system  for  our  purpose  ;  and 
let  our  purposes  be  those  of  earnest  living  men  and 
women.  The  music  that  we  listen  for  is  not  the 
song  of  angels,  but  the  "  still  sad  music  of  humanity." 
The  consolation  that  we  have  in  view  is  not  salva- 
tion from  mythological  sin  in  a  mythological 
paradise ;  it  is  salvation  from  doubt,  and  fear,  and 
dishonesty  and  dishonor,  as  we  walk  our  crooked 
and  rugged  pathway  through  this  life,  seeking  the 
better  life  which  we  all  desire. 


UNBELIEFS  OF  THE  BELIEVERS. 


I  invite  you,  this  morning,  to  consider  with  me 
the  subject  of  belief  and  unbelief ;  not  in  their 
speculative  relations  or  aspects,  though  these,  too, 
it  may  sometimes  be  profitable  and  even  necessary 
to  consider, — for  all  questions  that  we  entertain  in 
this  place  are  vital  questions,  not  speculative  merely; 
and  if,  perchance,  speculative  questions  are  enter- 
tained, they  are  always  considered  in  their  vital 
bearings.  So  this  matter  of  belief  and  of  unbelief 
I  would  look  upon  to-day  as  of  practical  concern, 
affecting  intimately  our  daily  life.  Indeed,  it  makes 
a  great  deal  of  difference  to  a  man  whether  he 
classes  himself  among  believers  or  unbelievers;  it 
affects  materially  the  whole  attitude  of  the  mind 
and  even  the  whole  bent  of  the  will.  To  consider 
one's  self  an  unbeliever,  on  whatever  ground,  or 
according  to  whatever  definition,  is  to  put  one's  self 
so  far,  out  of  sympathy  with  those  who  believe ; 
and  those  who   believe,  say  what   we  will,  are    the 


I 


44 


UNMKLIKFS    OF    THK    I'.KLIKVKRS. 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


earnest    people, — resolute    men   and  women, — who, 
whatever  their  opniions  may  be,  are  at  work  with  a 
purpose  to  make  life  better.     The   unbeliever, — the 
one  who  puts  himself  avowedly  among  unbelievers, 
— by  that  very  act   turns  his  back  to  the   breaking 
day,  becomes  critical,  captious,  doubting  ;  is  disposed 
to    find    the  weak  point    in   the   faith  of  those  v/ho 
believe,  and  the  strong  point  in   the  faith   of   those 
who  believe  not ;   and  consequently  he  goes  through 
the  world  asking,  but   never  expecting  an  answer; 
seeking,  but  never  hoping  to   find  ;    lifting  his  arms, 
but  never  seeking  an  enemy  that  it  is  worth  while  to 
strike  ;    fortifying  himself    to   no    purpose,   because 
life  to  him  must  be  negative  and  vain  ;  yes,  he  may 
go  through  life   a   skeptic,  a   doubter,  a   disbeliexer, 
all  the  time  having  unobserved,  unnoted  in  his  mind, 
moral  credence  enough,  if  acted  on  or  confessed,  to 
make  him  a  hero  and  even  a  saint.      If  Voltaire  and 
Thomas  Paine  could,  as  they  could  not  in  their  time 
and  with  their  calling,  have  put  themselves  bravely 
on  the  ground  of  what  they  did  believe,  instead   of 
declaring  what  they  did  not  believe  ;    if  they  could 
have    counted    themselves    as   affirmers    instead    of 
deniers,  not  only  would  they  have  been  grander  men 
personally,  but  their  whole  repute  in  the  world  would 
have  been  other  than   it   is.     For   men   respect   be- 
lievers   and   do   not   respect    unbelievers.     Unbelief 


45 


has  a  bad  atmosphere.  Belief  wdien  avowed  and 
maintained,  however  slight  and  tenuous  it  may  be, 
becomes  magnificent.  The  Christian  world,  and  not 
the  Christian  world  only,  puts  Voltaire  and  Paine 
and  the  rest  under  the  ban  and  keeps  them  there 
because  they  avowed  themselves  deniers.  Yet  there 
was  enough  in  the  belief  even  of  Voltaire  and  Paine 
to  have  lifted  them  into  the  foremost  rank  of  intel- 
ligent believers  and  doers  ;  yes,  m.uch  as  they  did, — 
and  nobody  yet  has  done  full  justice  to  the  superb 
things  that  Voltaire  and  Paine  attempted, — even 
those  things  would  have  dwindled  into  insignificance 
beside  the  achievements  they  might  have  performed, 
if  they  could  have  called  themselves  believers.  The 
church  understands  this.  The  church  knows  very 
well  that  they  who  occupy  the  position  of  unbelief, 
or  who  can  be  made  to  occupy  it,  are  thereby  put  out 
of  the  pale  of  common  respect ;  and  it  has  been  part 
of  the  policy  of  established  religions,  in  all  times  and 
in  all  places,  to  count  as  unbelievers  those  who  dis- 
sent from  their  own  doi^^mas. 

Now  it  is  timely  to  turn  the  tables.  It  is  timely 
for  unbelievers  to  avow  themselves  believers  and 
retort  upon  the  so  called  believers  the  charge  of  un- 
belief. It  is  timely  I  say.  It  is  not  only  timely, 
but  it  is  incumbent  on  them  to  do  so.  It  is  our 
privilege  ;  it  is  our  right ;  it  is  imposed   on   us  as  a 


46 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


duty  to  stand  upon  what  we  do  believe;  to  put  that 
forward  in  its  positiveness  and  breadth  ;  to  do  justice 
to  all  its  bearings;  to  exhibit  it  in  all  its  relations; 
and  to  say,  "  It  is  not  we  who  limit  ;  it  is  not  we 
who  question ;  it  is  not  we  who  clip  and  disfigure 
truths  ;  it  is  not  we  who  reject ;  rather  it  is  you,  who 
hav^e  always  put  us  and  compelled  us  to  stand  in 
the  attitude  of  unbelief." 

The  case  may  be  made  very  plain  and  without 
dealing  in  over-subtleties  and  refinements,  without 
leading  the  mind  into  the  perplexing  ways  of  meta- 
physics and  the  bewilderments  of  theology.  It  can 
be  made  so  plain  that  readers  shall  wonder  any  man 
thought  it  worth  while  to  say  it.     Let  us  see. 

The  belief  in  miracles  is  essential  to  the  whole 
popular  system  of  religion.  I  say  is  essential, — not 
incidental,  not  occasional, — it  is  the  root  of  the 
w^hole  system.  To  disbelieve  in  miracles  is  to  dis- 
credit the  entire  scheme.  Everything  that  we  call 
Christianity  sinks  ;  the  thing  that  we  call  Christendom 
is  annulled  the  moment  the  belief  in  miracles  is 
questioned.  I  repeat  it,  this  is  not  an  incidental 
consideration ;  it  is  not  a  debate  on  a  question  of 
evidence  for  this  or  that  scripture  statement ;  it  is 
not  a  question  in  regard  to  the  integrity  of  the 
bible,  Old  Testament  or  New.  It  is  a  conflict  be- 
tween those  who   believe   and    those  who    do   not 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    BELIEVERS.  47 

believe  in  the  violation  of   natural  law.     It  is  not 
a   little    skirmish   on   the   outer   lines    of    the    great 
army  ;   but   a  battle  between  opposing   hosts  that 
stand  face  to  face  with  each  other.     It   is  a  conflict 
a  r  ontrance ;  a  struggle  for  life   or  death  between 
the  central  forces.     I    reiterate  the    statement;    the 
whole  Christian  system  rests  upon  the  faith  in  mir- 
acles.    It  is  the  idea  of  God   as  a  being  outside  of 
the  universe, — let  the  universe  be  as  large  as  it  may 
be, — a  living   individual,  personal,  thinking,  purpos- 
ing,  willing,  even  as  a   man   thinks,   purposes,   and 
wills  ;  who  holds  in  his  grasp   the  laws   of    nature, 
suspends  them,   alters   them,  violates   them,   super- 
sedes them  at  his  pleasure ;    a  being  to  whom   the 
universe  is  a  machine  that  lie  can  dash  to  pieces  by 
a  blow  of  his  fist ;  which  he  can   cause   to  run  in  a 
particular  direction,  or  can  force  to  move  in  the  op- 
posite course,  or  forbid  to   go   at   all  ;   a  being  who 
can  change  death  into  life,  nothing  into  something; 
can  neutralize  the  law  of  gravitation  in   a  moment, 
whenever  he  fancies  it  is  worth  his  while  to  do  so. 
The  whole  christian  system  rests  on  this   idea.     But 
this  is  an  attitude  of  unbelief;  for  to  believe  in  a  be- 
ing who  is  outside  of  law,  who  does  not  recognize 
law,  to  whom  cause  and  effect  are  empty  words,  and 
in  whose  sight  the   universe   is   not   dovetailed   and 
riveted  together,  piece  clinging   to  piece,   sequence 


48 


TTXnF.IJKFS    OP    THR     HKI-I K  VKRS. 


following  sequence,  absolutely  and  irresistably, — is 
to  believe  in  a  being  to  whom  the  idea  of  law  does 
not  occur.  The  believer  in  miracles  is  an  unbeliever 
in  law.  An  unbeliever  in  law  ? — then  an  unbeliever 
in  the  very  constitution  of  the  living  world  ;  because 
this  fine  thread  of  cause  and  effect,  of  sequence  and 
consequence,  of  beginnings,  continuations  and  end- 
ings, links  together  the  parts  of  a  wonderful  system, 
which  the  finest  telescope  has  not  yet  fully  disclosed 
to  us,  and  which  the  most  keen-eyed  microscope  has 
not  revealed  ;  a  world  of  wonder  upon  wonder,  of 
marvel   upon  marvel,  of  mystery  upon    mystery, — a 

orld  of  atoms,  stars,  suns,— a  world  whose  very 
dust  breaks  into  orbs  that  sparkle  like  gems  in  the 
night  heaven  ;  a  world  whose  lowest  rudimental  tend- 
encies come  creeping  up  into  the  organized  brain  of 
man.  This  world,  so  vast,  so  complex,  so  closely 
woven,  is  held  together  by  law. 

We  live  by  law.  Our  daily  life  is  ordered  by  it. 
We  do  not  build  a  house  or  a  ship  ;  we  do  not  sail  a 
vessel  ;  we  do  not  make  a  bargain ;  we  do  not  drive 
a  piece  of  trade  except  on  the  presumption  that 
cause  and  effect  hold  good  everywhere,  on  land  and 
on  sea.  We  do  not  marry,  or  make  homes,  or  rear 
children,  or  nurture  them,  or  lay  plans  of  life,  or 
choose  professions,  or  conduct  a  single  day's  affairs 
on    the   lowest   plane  of    activity,  without   assuming 


UNP.ELIEFS   OF    THE    DELIEVERS. 


49 


cause  and  effect,  sequence  and  consequence,  the  in- 
violable and  infallible  integrity  of  the  world.  We 
m?fst  assume  it.  If  any  man  could  suppose  that,  at 
any  moment,  a  certain  divine  power,  good  or  evil, 
outside  of  his  world,  could  touch  a  spring,  turn  a 
pivot,  which  might  reverse  his  engine,  throw  his  ma- 
chine off  the  track,  confound  his  enterprises,  the 
world,  for  that  man,  would  be  paralyzed  ;  for  him 
affairs  would  not  go  on  for  a  single  day.  He  would 
not  plant  ;  the  harvest  w^ould  not  be  gathered  ;  the 
commercial  marine  would  rot  at  the  piers, — there 
would  /?r  no  comm.ercial  marine  in  fact ;  all  the  op- 
erations of  the  human  mind  would  be  brought  to  a 
stand. 

Does  the  believer  protest  that  the  operation  of 
miracles  has  been  limited  to  a  particular  epoch  of 
time, — that  the  period  when  iron  was  made  to  swim, 
when  dead  men  came  to  life  at  the  word  of  a 
prophet,  and  living  men  died  without  disease,  was 
very  remote  and  peculiar  ;  a  time  of  special  interpo- 
sition ;  that  miracles  are  confined  to  the  bible  age, 
to  the  eras  of  the  Old  Testament  and  New  Testa- 
ment, to  the  generation  of  the  apostles,  and  that 
Deity  has  gracefully  permitted  law  to  prevail  ever 
since,  allowing  us  to  take  adv^antage  of  the  firm  es- 
tablishment and  the  regular  operation  of  cause  and 
effect?     Thon  wc   mist    en(]uirc  if  cause  and  effect 


:o 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    HELIEVERS. 


rest    on    allowance.      What     assurance     have     we, 
what  pledge,  what  guarantee,  that  the  will  or  whim 
which  broke  into  the  world    two   thousand    or  three 
thousand  years   ago,  may  not   break   into   it   to-day, 
and  derange  all  our  plans?     George  Miiller  believes 
that  it  does.     The  faithful  Roman  Catholic  believes 
that  it  does.     The  sincere   Protestant    must   believe 
that   it   does.     Yet,  that   belief  alone  is  unbelief  of 
the  most  radical  description, — unbelief  in    the   very 
constitution  of  the  universe  itself.     Nay,  if  it  comes 
to  that,  who  is  the  living  God ?     Who  believes  in  the 
living   God  ?     The    believer,   so  called,   thinks  of  a 
deity  out  side  of  the  world,  a  deity  that  dips  into  it 
occasionally,  whenever  it  is  to  Him  desirable.     The 
unbeliever  has   faith   in   a   universe   that   is    instinct 
with  a  vital   quality  that   bears  the  name  of  Deity  ; 
that   is  animated  with  order,   harmony,   continuous 
energy;  that  is  full  of  purpose,  meaning  and  tend- 
ency.    The  unbeliever,  therefore,  is  the  believer  in  a 
living  God.     He  may  call  himself  by   definition   an 
atheist  ;  no  matter  :   the  world   in  which   he  lives  is 
saturated  w^ith  the  essence  of  Godhood.      Here  then 
is    a  cardinal    distinction,   according   to    which    the 
believer  is  the  unbeliever,  and  the  unbeliever  is  the 
greatest  of  believers. 

The  practical  bearing  of  this  appears  in  a  casual 
incident   that  will  serve  as  an   illustration.     A  few 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


51 


years  ago,  so  it  is  reported,  a  committee  from  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals 
waited  upon  the  Pope  in  Rome  to  ask  his  sanction 
to  the  aims  of  the  society.  The  Pope  refused  it, 
saying  *' What  has  Christianity  to  do  with  animals? 
The  work  of  the  church  is  to  save  souls,"  Cattle 
having  no  souls.  Religion  has  nothing  to  do  with 
them.  This  was  the  attitude  taken  by  the  head  of 
Christendom, — the  chief  person  in  Christendom; 
the  chief  person  in  civilization  who  believes  in  the 
idea  of  God  that  I  have  been  describing.  His  atti- 
tude illustrates  the  attitude  of  the  theory.  See  now, 
by  another  case,  the  attitude  of  the  other  theory. 
The  Buddhists  are  commonly  reputed  atheists; 
they  appear  certainly  to  have  no  God  *'  to  speak  of ;  " 
they  have  no  Deity  they  have  ever  succeeded  in  de- 
fining, and  consequently  rest  under  the  ban  of  being 
deniers  of  Deity  altogether.  Yet,  the  Buddhist 
believes  so  intensely  in  Deit)%  his  world  is  so  satu- 
rated with  Deity,  so  full  of  piety,  compassion,  love, 
kindness,  towards  all  creatures,  that  he  has  asylums 
for  brute  beasts.  All  created  things  are  holy  in  his 
eyes,  for  deity  animates  them  all.  The  disbeliever 
in  the  personal  God  of  Revelation  is  the  believer  in 
the  real  God  of  Law.  The  unbeliever  who  calls 
himself  Pantheist  or  Atheist,  but  yet  is  a  high  toned, 
honest,  honorable  man,  accepts  the   sanctity  of  the 


52 


UNP.IXIEFS   OF    THE    UELIEVKRS. 


world,  the  holiness  of  human  relations,  the  precious- 
ness  of  virtue,  the  sweetness  of  lovincr  kindness, 
even  in  those  aspects  and  relations  which  the  Chris- 
tian does  not  see  to  be  venerable  at  all. 

Press    the    matter    a    little    further.     The    central 
doctrine  of  Christianity  is  the   Incarnation.     With- 
out this  there  is  no  Christianity;  without  this  there 
is  no  Christendom.     The   Incarnation, — that   is  the 
embodiment  in  a  human  form  and  person  of  a  divine 
being,    the  conjunction   of    a  celestial  and   seraphic 
nature  with  a  human  personality.     This,  let  me  say 
again,  is  the  centre  of  the  Christian   system.     We 
may  go  further  and  call  it   the  centre  of  every  insti- 
tuted religion.      Now   let   it    be  considered   what   an 
amount  of  disbelief  the  belief  in  incarnation  implies. 
In  the  first  place,  there  must  be  a  miraculous  birth,  a 
birth  out  of  the  order  of    nature.     That   is  to   say, 
before  one  can   come   at    the   belief   in    incarnation, 
before  one  can  begin  the  process  of  embodying  the 
angel,  one  must  cast  doubt  and  disrepute  upon  this 
holiest  of  laws,  according  to  which  the  race  has  from 
the    beginning    perpetuated    its    existence    on     the 
planet.      For,  to  say  that   the  God-man  can  only  be 
born  when  all  the  conditions  under  which  other  men 
and  women  are  born  are   neglected,  are  flounted,  as 
it  were,  is  to  say  that  the  ordinances  of  nature,  to 
which  the  human  race  is  submitted  are  inadequate  to 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


53 


the  production  of  the  highest  type  of  humanity  ;  that 
the  divine  life  cannot  be  transmitted  through  them. 
What  an  unbelief  is  that  I  How  deadly  it  is!  If 
there  is  one  thing  that  the  men  and  women  of  this 
generation  need  to  feel  in  every  part  of  the  civilized 
world,  it  is  the  sanctity, — f/ie  sanctity,  I  repeat,  of 
the  natural  conditions  by  which  the  human  race  is 
enabled  to  perpetuate  itself  on  the  earth.  We  are 
perishing  because  we  do  not  believe  this ;  we  are 
perishing  because  these  natural  laws  are  violated 
and  insulted.  For  this  reason  our  society  rots  ;  from 
this  cause  men  and  women  are  losing  their  sense  of 
responsibility,  and  playing  fast  and  loose  with  the 
most  solemn  and  invisible  relations  of  life.  And 
yet  the  popular  belief  in  incarnation  tends  exactly 
to  that. 

When  Jesus  was  born,  it  is  said  that  throughout 
the  Jewish  race  there  was  an  anticipation  of  his 
coming, — the  coming  of  a  Messiah.  The  hunger 
and  tb.irst  of  the  people  demanded  this  divine  sup- 
ply ;  the  Jewish  woman  as  she  became  a  mother, 
and  it  was  the  desire  of  her  heart  to  become  a 
mother,  looked  forward  to  the  possibility  that  her 
son  might  be  the. promised  deliverer.  Such  a  hope 
planted  in  the  bosom  of  mothers  sanctified  them, 
filled  them  with  longing  and  peace ;  delighted  and 
blessed  their  homes.     In  the  period  before  the  child 


54 


UNPELIEFS    OF    THE     BELIEVERS. 


was  born,  the  mother  was  simple,  sincere,  holy  and 
pure  ;    after  the  child   was   born,  he   was  nurtured, 
cared  for,  and  watched  over,  because  the  boy  might 
be,— who  knew?  certainly  she  did   not  know,— the 
deliverer  of  his  people.     Out  of  those  natural  laws, 
yes,  out  of  these  simple  human  conditions,  with  the 
grace  of  heaven,  the  grandeur  of   heaven  and  earth 
might  come.     How  is  it  now?     Christians  believe 
that  a  solitary  person  gathers   up   into   himself  the 
sanctity  of  the  human  race.     There   is  no   longer  a 
kindling  hope,  only  a  disheartening  memory.     There 
is  no  Messiah  to  be  expected  now,  no   saint,  no   sage, 
no  leader.     He  has  come ;    he   is   in  heaven.     Wor- 
ship  him  there;  bring  gifts  to  him  ;   offer  him   sacri- 
flees.     Your  boy  is  surely  not   to   be  the  deliverer. 
You  will  be  wise  to  believe  he  is  quite  as  likely  to  be 
a  plague  and  a   nuisance.     Thus  persuaded,  fathers 
and  mothers  to-day  are  praying  that   they  may  not 
have  sons;  are  resorting  to  shameful  means  of  pre- 
venting their   coming  ;  and   when  they  come,  think 
how  they  may  cast  them   adrift,  put  them  off   upon 
ignorant  and  stupid  people,  send  them  over  the  sea, 
get  rid  of  them,  because  they  do  not  regard  as  sacred 
this  most  natural  of  human    relations.     We   do   not 
expect  any  hero,  deliverer,  or  Messiah  to  come  from 
our  blood  ;  therefore  we  count  the   blood  to   be  un- 
clean,  and  give  over  to  the  lowest   desire,  to  animal 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE     BELIEVERS. 


55 


lust  or  mercantile  arrangement,  what  should  be  the 
holiest  of  all  human  things. 

It  seems  to  me,  and  I  believe  the  record  of  history 
will  verify  the  opinion,  that  the  belief  in  Incarnation, 
involving,  as  it  does,  unbelief  in  the  natural  laws  by 
which  the  human  race  is  perpetuated,  has  led  in  no 
inconsiderable  degree  to  this  horrible  state  of  practi- 
cal unbelief,  and  to  the  consequent  mischiefs  and 
degradations  that  we  are  struggling  to  recover  from, 
almost  hopelessly,  now. 

The  Messiah,  we  will  suppose,  becomes  a  man  ; 
the  Incarnate  God  reaches  maturity.  See  now  the 
deepening  shadow  of  unbelief ;  for,  in  this  unbelief 
is  involved  disbelief  in  the  adult  man  and  woman. 
The  great  man,  the  divine  man,  is  miraculous,  is  of 
supernatural  origin,  is  superhuman  in  quality.  He 
is  not  one  of  the  family.  He  is  of  another  race. 
All  great  virtues  come  through  some  special  grace 
into  the  world.  You  are  not  to  expect  them,  there- 
fore ;  you,  common  men  and  women,  need  not  ex- 
pect to  be  naturally  good  ;  for  you  have  not  received 
the  supernatural  grace.  You  need  not  suppose  that 
your  weak  hearts  are  entitled  to  illustrate  the 
purity  that  redeems  and  sustains  mankind  ;  that 
your  simple  human  conscience  is  adequate  to  organ- 
ize justice;  that  your  merely  human  will  can  authen- 
ticate a  divine  decree.     You   are  but  a  man  ;  you 


56 


UNBELIEFS    OF     THE     BFl.lEVERS. 


arc  but  a  woman.     You  cannot  claim  to  be  born   of 
God  ;  you  have  no  title  to  be  regarded  as  an   incar- 
nate angel ;  you   are  under   the   law   of  nature  and 
must    take    your   chances   accordingly.       Hence    it 
results,   and   has  resulted, — the   evidence   comes   to 
us  from  the  past, — that  the  belief  in  incarnation  has 
tended  to   bring  into  disrepute   the   attainments   of 
natural  goodness.     It  cannot  be  denied   that   some- 
thing that  looks  very  much   like  goodness  exists  in 
the  world.     There  are  men  and   women   who  sci'iii 
to   be  good,   but    it   is  only  sccnn'fig.      The  natural 
saint  is  not   holy;  the  natural   hero   is   not  heroic; 
the  natural  philanthropist  is  not  pitiful.     Take   him 
to  pieces.     Virtue  is  only  vice  under  another  name, 
varnished  and  veneered.      Saintliness  is  nothing  but 
expediency    in    anotlier    form ;    purity    is    common 
prudence  with  a  finer   application.     Vice,  of  course, 
is  what  it  seems  to  be.     There  is  no  soul  of  crood  in 
things  evil.     Lying,  killing,  cheating  are  matters   of 
course.  What  better  can  you  expect  of  human  nature, 
which  must  be  corrupt,  in  so  much  that  it  has  to  be 
redeemed,  not  by  any  natural  power  of  its  own,  but 
by  an  act  of  supernatural  grace. 

Hence  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  believer  in  Incar- 
nation, is  an  unbeliever  in  man  and  woman.  Roche- 
foucault  and  the  skeptics  of  the  French  school,  the 
proverbial  scoffers  at  human   goodness,  the  avowed 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


57 


disbelievers  in  the  chastity  of  woman,  in  the  virtue 
of  man,  have  simply  expressed  in  w^orldly  phrase 
the  thoughts  of  the  saints  in  the  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant churches;  have  simply  voiced  in  other 
language  what  the  Christian  theory  has  prompted. 
Both  assume  the  corruption  of  human  nature  ;  both 
assume,  therefore,  that  men  and  women  are  by 
nature  good  for  nothing ;  that  nothing  can  be  hoped 
for  out  of  such  a  mass  of  imbecility  as  that;  that 
the  world  must  be  given  over  to  lying  and  fraud 
until  it  shall  become  converted  to  the  Christ ;  and 
as  conversion  to  the  Christ  is  a  theory  that  ordinary 
people,  except  in  their  wildest  dream,  can  never 
anticipate,  the  doom  of  the  race  is  sealed;  and  the 
believx^r  becomes  an  unbeliever  in  the  rescue  of  his 
own  species. 

The  unbeliever  believes  in  the  natural  capacity  of 
man  and  woman  ;  believes  in  goodness  as  a  legiti- 
mate product  of  the  heart;  believes  that  apparent 
virtue  may  be  real ;  that  seeming  manliness  may  be 
genuine  ;  that  heroism  may  be  true  ;  that  saintliness 
may  be  accepted  in  good  faith  ;  he,  in  other  words, 
believes  that  out  of  the  raw  material  of  human 
nature  everything  that  human  nature  has  need  of 
may  be  created.  He  will  not  abate  a  tithe  of  the 
grandeur,  of  the  beauty  of  the  Christ.  He  has  not 
the  least  disposition  to  make  Jesus  less  a  personage 


5« 


UNBELIEFS    OK    THE     BEIJEVERS. 


than  he  was.     Allow  him  to  be   all   that   is  claimed 
for   him    in    respect  of   virtue,  goodness,   nobleness, 
sanctity;   all  that  wc  contend  for  is  that  he  was  no 
superhuman   being,   but  a   being  intensely   human  ; 
the  higher  we  place  him  in  the   scale  of  being,  the 
more  we  exalt  the  humanity  out  of  which  he  grew  ; 
the  more  we  exalt  the  indomitable  power  of  human 
nature  which   can   throw   up  such  Alpine   peaks  to 
the  sky.     Has  human  nature  given  birth  to  a  Shake- 
speare who  leads  the  world  in  poetic  art?     Has  hu- 
man nature  given  birth  to   a  Phidias  who   stands  at 
the  head  of  sculpture  ?     Has  it  created  a  Raphael, 
a  Titian  who  distance  all  the   artists   in    crenius   for 
painting?      By  the  same   creative  force  this  same 
human    nature    is   capable  of    producing   a    Christ. 
Place  him  as  high  as  you  will.     Grant  to  others    the 
same  conditions,  and  the  same  result  will  follow. 

Thus  once  again,  it  appears  that  the  unbeliever  is 
in  the  attitude  of  one  who  accepts  natural  laws,  and 
plants  his  faith  immoveably  upon  human  nature. 
He  is  not  the  skeptic  ;  he  is  not  the  denier  ;  he  is 
not  the  questioner.  He  affirms,— he  does  nothing 
but  affirm.  He  takes  the  meanest  germ  of  virtue 
and  says,  ''  Be  true,— be  true  to  yourself.  Believe 
what  is  best  in  yourself;  seek  your  noblest  ideal, 
and  it  will  become  real  ;  out  of  your  dust  the  flowers 
of  Paradise  will  bloom." 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


59 


Press  the  matter  one  point  further.  You  will  all 
agree  with  me  that  the  idea  of  revelation  is  cardinal 
in  Christianity.  The  doctrine  is  this,  that  there  are 
certain  questions  which  human  wit  cannot  answer ; 
certain  depths,  certain  problems  which  the  human 
mind  cannot  fathom.  All  our  infomation  respecting 
the  secret  of  life  ;  all  our  knowledge  about  the  end 
of  creation  must  come,  if  it  comes  at  all,  from  above, 
from  outside  of  the  human  intelligence.  It  comes, 
therefore,  by  revelation  from  God.  This  is  the 
current  belief  of  every  instituted  system  of  religion. 
It  is  the  cardinal  belief  that  makes  all  others  second- 
ary. We,  who  do  not  believe  in  supernatural  revela- 
tion, have  no  certainty;  can  claim  no  assurance. 
But  now,  look  at  the  reverse  side  of  the  statement. 
The  believer  in  revelation  believes  that  there  are 
problems  with  which  the  mind  cannot  grapple ; 
that  there  are  questions  it  is  idle  for  human  intelli- 
gence to  raise,  and,  of  course,  vain  for  human 
intelligence  to  seek  to  answer ;  that  the  essential 
views,  the  indispensable  thoughts,  the  vital  beliefs, 
can  come  only  from  a  sphere  outside  of  human 
reason.  What  an  imputation  is  here  upon  human 
reason !  What  a  reproach  upon  the  intelligence 
that  has  created  science  upon  science ;  has  built 
philosophy  upon  philosophy ;  has  started  and  met 
question  after  question  ;  has  tried  its  skill  on  prob- 


S8 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE     BELIEVERS. 


than  he  was.     Allow  him  to  be   all   that   is  claimed 
for  him   in   respect  of  virtue,  goodness,  nobleness, 
sanctity ;  all  that  we  contend  for  is  that  he  was  no 
superhuman  being,   but  a   being  intensely   human  ; 
the  higher  we  place  him  in  the   scale  of  beinj^,  the 
more  we  exalt  the  humanity  out  of  which  he  erew  • 
the  more  we  exalt  the  indomitable  power  of  human 
nature  which  can   throw   up  such  Alpine  peaks   to 
the  sky.     Has  human  nature  given  birth  to  a  Shake- 
speare who  leads  the  world  in  poetic  art?     Has  hu- 
man nature  given  birth  to  a  Phidias  who  stands  at 
the  head  of  sculpture  ?     Has  it  created  a  Raphael, 
a  Titian  who  distance  all  the   artists  in   genius  for 
painting?      By   the   same   creative   force   this   same 
human    nature    is   capable   of    producing    a    Christ. 
Place  him  as  high  as  you  will.     Grant  to  others    the 
same  conditions,  and  the  same  result  will  follow. 

Thus  once  again,  it  appears  that  the  unbeliever  is 
in  the  attitude  of  one  who  accepts  natural  laws,  and 
plants  his  faith  immoveably  upon  human  nature. 
He  is  not  the  skeptic  ;  he  is  not  the  denier  ;  he  is 
not  the  questioner.  He  affirms,— he  does  nothing 
but  affirm.  He  takes  the  meanest  germ  of  virtue 
and  says,  ''  Be  true,— be  true  to  yourself.  Believe 
what  is  best  in  yourself;  seek  your  noblest  ideal, 
and  it  will  become  real  ;  out  of  your  dust  the  flowers 
of  Paradise  will  bloom." 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


59 


Press  the  matter  one  point  further.  You  will  all 
agree  with  me  that  the  idea  of  revelation  is  cardinal 
in  Christianity.  The  doctrine  is  this,  that  there  are 
certain  questions  which  human  wit  cannot  answer ; 
certain  depths,  certain  problems  which  the  human 
mind  cannot  fathom.  All  our  infomation  respecting 
the  secret  of  life  ;  all  our  knowledge  about  the  end 
of  creation  must  come,  if  it  comes  at  all,  from  above, 
from  outside  of  the  human  intelligence.  It  comes, 
therefore,  by  revelation  from  God.  This  is  the 
current  belief  of  every  instituted  system  of  religion. 
It  is  the  cardinal  belief  that  makes  all  others  second- 
ary. We,  who  do  not  believe  in  supernatural  revela- 
tion, have  no  certainty;  can  claim  no  assurance. 
But  now,  look  at  the  reverse  side  of  the  statement. 
The  believer  in  revelation  believes  that  there  are 
problems  with  which  the  mind  cannot  grapple ; 
that  there  are  questions  it  is  idle  for  human  intelli- 
gence to  raise,  and,  of  course,  vain  for  human 
intelligence  to  seek  to  answer ;  that  the  essential 
views,  the  indispensable  thoughts,  the  vital  beliefs, 
can  come  only  from  a  sphere  outside  of  human 
reason.  What  an  imputation  is  here  upon  human 
reason !  What  a  reproach  upon  the  intelligence 
that  has  created  science  upon  science ;  has  built 
philosophy  upon  philosophy  ;  has  started  and  met 
question  after  question  ;  has  tried  its  skill  on  prob- 


6o 


UNHF.LIKFS    OF    THE     HF.I.IEVERS. 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE     BELIEVERS. 


6l 


lem  after  problem  ;  has   thrown   down  its  answer, 

such  answer  as  there  was  to   give   to   the  enquiring 
minds  of  ages.     The  believer  in  revelation/therefore, 
is  no  beHever  in  the   spiritual   worth    of    literature. 
He  classes  all  secular  books,— books  of  science,  of 
philosophy,   of    history,   of    art,   among  the    books 
that  are   not  wholesome  reading   for   anybody   who 
seeks  more  than  casual  entertainment  or  instruction. 
If  one  desires  saving  knowledge,  he  must  go  to  the 
bible.     It  is  profitless  to  the  soul  to  take  up  Shake- 
speare ;  it  is  of  no  heavenly  use  to  read  the  Novum 
Organum  of     Bacon,    or    Cuvier,    or    Sir    Thomas 
Browne  ;  it  is  a  waste  of  precious  time  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  Thomas  Huxley,  or  listen  to  the  lectures  of 
John  Tyndall.     Go  to  the  inspired  Bible  ;    the  Book 
of  Books:    there  is  true  knowledge;    there  is  the 
final  answer  to  life's  questions.     A  reproach  is  cast 
not  upon   Shakespeare   especially,  not  upon  Bacon, 
nor  yet   upon  Huxley  or  Tyndall;  the  reproach   is 
cast    upon    the    human    mind    of    which    these    are 
children;   upon  the  human  mind  which  is  fathomless 
in  capacity  ;  which  throws  out  literature  as  the  prim- 
eval fire  mist  throws  out  stars.     Is  it  belief  that   ex- 
cludes  from    regard    every  thing   that    the   human 
mind    has    done?    or    is    it    unbelief?       No     man 
who    believes    in    revelation  in   the  popular   sense, 
trusts   his  or  any  mind   to    grapple  with   problems 


that   are  of  vital  concern  to  himself  or  his  fellows. 

This  notion  that  certain  problems  must  have 
definite,  final  and  conclusive  answers,  is  a  reflection 
upon  other  problems,  because  no  other  questions 
have  definite,  certain  and  conclusive  answers.  The 
questions  of  business,  of  science,  of  philosophy, 
are  all  open.  We  are  forever  seeking,  searching, 
exploring  for  more  light.  If,  therefore,  there  are 
any  questions  which  must  be  finally  and  fully  an- 
swered and  can  be  answered  by  revelation  alone, 
reproach  is  cast  upon  the  process  of  finding  truth 
through  question,  search  and  experiment,  upon  which 
all  our  knowledge  depends.  Thus  again,  the  believer 
in  revelation  is  the  actual  skeptic.  He  doubts 
where  doubt  is  simply  fatal  not  only  to  knowledge, 
but  to  inquiry. 

The  argument  might  be  pressed  much  further. 
It  might  be  illustrated  by  new  instances.  It  might 
be  pressed  in  directions  which  are  not  commonly 
contemplated  ;  but  this  is  enough.  I  have  stated 
the  case  broadly,  because  I  wished  to  exhibit  the 
strength  of  the  main  position  ;  I  have  treated  it 
pointedly,  because  I  wished  the  chief  considera- 
tions to  be  felt  as  well  as  understood. 

The  whole  question  resolves  itself  into  this, 
whether  our  belief  is  to  be  an  addition  to  our  life  or 
not ;  whether  creed  and  conduct  are  to  go   together 


62 


UNBELIEFS   OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


and  cleave  together.     The  creed  of  one  generation 
may  influence  life  when  the  same  creed  in  another 
generation  will  be  inoperative.     The  creed  which,  in 
one  age,  has  set  men  aflame,  in  another  age,  will 
extinguish  even  the  embers  of  vitality.     The  belief 
in  fatalism,  for  example,  which  in  the  ancient  and  far 
off  East,  was  a  creative  power  of    prodigious  force, 
kindling   and    impelling    multitudes,    giving    moral 
energy  to  a  nation  of  people,   now  prostrates  and 
crushes  the  very  race  it  animated.     When  this  faith 
in  fatalism  was  native  to  the  people,  it  was  inspiring 
and  invigorating.     It   is  native    to    the    people    no 
longer.     Consequently  it  has  lost  its  hold   and  need 
not   be   preached   there   any   more.      It   was   true 
yesterday  ;  it  is  false  to-day.     The  Turkish  general, 
beaten  in  battle  by  the  Russians,  says  to  the  ques- 
tioner, *•!  have  done  my  best ;  every  thing  was  thought 
of  that  could  be  thought  of ;  every  thing  has  been 
accomplished  that  valor  and   determination   could 
accomplish.     We  ought  to  have   beaten  ;  we  have 
been  defeated  ;  it  is  the  will  of  God  !  "     Should   we 
say  that?     Would  an  American  speak  so?     Would 
an  EngHshman  give  that  explanation  of  his  discomfi- 
ture?     Would  any  modern  European  fall  back,  even 
at  last,  on  predestination  ?     He  would  rather  say, 
"I    have    been    beaten.     The    fault    was   with    me. 
Something  was  neglected  ;   the   next   time,  nothing 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE    BELIEVERS. 


63 


shall  be  neglected.  Our  generals  were  unskilled  ; 
our  commissariat  was  ill  supplied  ;  our  organization 
was  imperfect ;  this  shall  not  happen  again.  The 
next  time  battle  is  joined  the  conditions  of  victory 
shall  be  anticipated.** 

The  strong  belief  of  to-day  is  the  belief  that  is  na- 
tural to  the  people  of  to-day.  The  native  belief  is 
the  belief  that  empowers.  It  may  be  speculatively 
true  or  untrue.  It  is  certain  not  to  be  wholly  true. 
No  belief  is  absolutely  true.  No  belief  is  true  for 
more  than  the  generations  that  it  affects ;  and  no 
belief,  however  poor  and  flimsy  it  may  seem,  that 
is  native  to  a  generation  fails  to  inspire.  The  belief 
that  is  the  inspiration  of  to-day  is  faith  in  progress. 
Define  it  as  men  will ;  quarrel  with  it  as  men  will ; 
say  that  it  has  been  carried  to  extremes,  that  it  has 
been  misinterpreted,  the  fact  stands  that  the  belief  in 
progress  is  the  belief  that  vitalizes  the  men  and  wo- 
men of  to-day.  The  statesman,  the  politician,  the 
poet,  the  philosopher,  the  teacher,  the  merchant, 
the  inventor, — the  men  and  women  of  every  degree 
who  do  vigorous  work,  who  think,  feel,  purpose, 
act  with  the  most  resolution  or  valor,  do  it  on  the 
strength  of  this  belief.  They  do  not  know  it,  per- 
haps ;  possibly,  they  never  heard  the  doctrine  intel- 
legibly  stated,  still  the  power  of  it  is  in  their  blood  ; 
it  is  bone  of  their  bone  ;  it  is  soul  of  their  soul ;  it 


64 


UNBELIEFS    OF     THE     BELIEVERS. 


is  life  of  their  life.  It  inspires  those  who  have 
never  entertained  it.  It  invi<,rorates  tliosc  who 
know  not  whence  their  strength  comes. 

This    beh'ef    in    progress   the   so    called    believer 
distrusts  and  often  repudiates.     When  he  is   in   the 
attitude  of  belief,   when    he   kneels   in   his   church, 
when  he  recites  his  creed,  when  he  makes   his   con- 
fession,   he    dismisses    the    thought     of     progress. 
Progress  implies  the  natural   capacity,  the   inherent 
ability  of  man.      Chri.stianity    implies   the    natural 
incapacity,    the    natural    inability    of    man.      Here 
then,  at    the  root,  the  believer   is    the  unbeliever; 
and  here  the   unbeliever  is   the   believer,  every  day 
he  lives,  in  every  act   that   he   performs.     Cling    to 
the  belief  in  progress,  ill  defined  and   vague   as    it 
may  appear  to  be,— the  belief  that  it  is  worth  while 
to  do  something,  worth  while  to  try  for  a  better  to- 
morrow after  to-day,  a  brighter  day  for   the  dark- 
ened, a  richer  day  for  the   poor,  a   restful   day   for 
the    troubled     and   afflicted,   and    that   this   day   is 
coming,--coming  out  of  our  effort,  our  endeavor, 
our  knowledge,  our   faith   and   aspiration,— this   is 
the  faith  that  makes  men  to  be  men,  and  women  to 
be  women,  so  far  as  they  are    men    and    women    in 
this  generation.     Assume  this  faith  and  the  unbe- 
liever becomes  the  grandest    of    all    believers,— a 
believer  in  something  that  is  better  than  happiness, 


UNBELIEFS    OF    THE     BELIEVERS. 


6s 


— in  goodness,  greatness  and  justice  ;  in  that  lov- 
ing kindness  which  is  the  sweetest  name  that  is 
named  in  heaven  or  on  the  earth. 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR  RELIGION 

PREVAIL? 


I  ask  you  to  listen  this  morning  to  some  discuss- 
ion of  the  causes  of  the  power  and  prevalence  of 
the  popular  religion.  By  the  popular  religion,  I 
mean,  of  course,  the  religion  of  the  people — the 
prevailing  religion — the  religion  that  is  called 
Christianity.  It  includes  all  those  who  worship  the 
Christ,  who  have,  as  the  centre  of  their  belief,  the 
image  of  a  Christ,  who  rely  upon  Christ  as  their 
Saviour,  who  look  forward  to  the  future  in  the  hope 
of  meeting  their  Christ  and  living  in  his  smile — all 
those  who  look  to  the  Christ  as  the  source  of  life, 
of  strength,  of  consolation,  of  peace.  The  popu- 
lar religion  embraces  all  those,  whatever  may  be 
their  particular  name,  whether  of  the  Greek,  the  Ro- 
man,or  the  English  Church — whether  called  Catholic 
or  Protestant,  and  Protestant  of  whatsoever  name.  It 
includes  Universalists,  who  call  themselves  a  liberal 


68        WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR  RELIGION   PREVAIL  ? 


sect,  yet  still  believe  in  the  Christ  ;  it  includes  the 
old  school  Unitarians  who,  callin^^  themselves  a  lib- 
eral sect,  still,  after  a  fashion  of  their  own,  believe 
in  the  Christ.  It  does  not  include  the  Unitarians 
of  the  new  school,  or  the  liberals  of  any  class  who 
believe  in  education,  in  culture,  in  science,  in 
knowledge,  in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  in  the  illumin- 
ation of  the  human  faculties,  in  the  intrinsic  capac- 
ity of  man  to  answer  the  questions  which  have  to 
be  answered,  to  meet  life's  needs  and  right  life's 
wrongs,  and  to  lift  man  out  of  the  dead  level  of 
materialism  and  beastialism  into  the  liberty  and 
nobleness  of  human  creatures.  The  popular  relig- 
ion is  the  religion  of  all  those  who  in  any  form  or 
degree  disbelieve  in  man.  It  is  not  the  religion  of 
any  who,  to  whatever  degree,  believe  in  man. 

That  the  popular  religion  prevails,  need  not  be 
argued.  It  is  the  only  religion  that  passes  for  re- 
ligion at  all.  It  has  the  churches,  it  opens 
the  temples ;  it  observes  the  rites,  it  administers 
the  sacraments,  it  ordains  the  priests ;  it  sends  out 
the  preachers  and  missionaries ;  it  keeps  alive  the 
potent  activities  which  sustain  the  life  of  Christ- 
endom. 

Now,  the  question  is,  why  does  this  religion  live? 
why  is  it  mighty?  why  does  it  prevail?  The  multi- 
tude will   say,   because    it   is   true ;    and    truth,   of 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL?        69 

course,  prevails.     We  cannot  say  that  because,  if  we 
should  concede  so  much,   we    should    not   be   here. 
The  only  justification  for   our  assembling,    for  my 
speaking,  the  only  thing  that  justifies  our  corporate 
existence  at  all  is  the  conviction  that  the  popular  relig- 
ion is  not  true  ;  that  it  is  a  superstition  ;  that  it  is  not 
grounded  on  history,  on  knowledge,  on  science,  on 
fact,  but  that    it  is  a  fancy,  an    imagination,  a  tra- 
dition.    If  the  religion  be  true,  then  this  vast   per- 
plexity is  forced  upon  us :     why  does  it   not  prevail 
more?  if  it  is  true,  if  it  has  the  support  of  miracles, 
if  it  is  backed  by  supernatural  power,  if  it  is  a  revel- 
ation from  Deity,  if  it  is,  in    fact,    a   device    of    the 
omniscient  and  omnipotent  for  the  spread  of  truth 
throughout  the  world,  why  does  not  the  truth  over- 
come the  world  ?  For  nearly  two  thousand  years  this 
particular  system  has  been  pushing  against  the  world, 
and  it  is  at  bay.      How  comes  it  that,  in  these  times, 
particularly  these  last  days,  when  men    know  more 
than    they    did,    when    the    hunger    and   thirst    for 
truth   is    more  noticeable,    when  philosophy  has  its 
priests  and  apostles,  when  science  is  fairly  born,  when 
all  the  powers  of  civilized    man    are    at    the   fullest 
stretch    of    activity,  why  is    it  that  now,  precisely 
now,  the  popular  religion   falls    into  more   discredit 
than  ever?  why  is  it  that,  in  the  centres  of  the  world's 
life  and  activity,  in   Paris,  in  Berlin,  in   London,  in 


70  WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ? 


New  York,  it  prevails  less  and  less  and  gradually  re- 
cedes ?     How  comes  it,  if  the  system  be  true,  that  it 
does  not  prevail  more  and  more  in  proportion  as  the 
intelligence  of  man  is  ready  to  receive  it  ?    Do    you 
say  it  is  because  human  nature  is  depraved,  is  essen- 
tially degraded,  and  in  proportion  to  the  natural  light 
that  it  attains,  it  wanders  further  and   further   from 
the  truth  ?  you  then  fall  into  an  abyss  of  scepticism 
that  is  utterly  fathomless ;  then  you  doubt  every- 
thing ;  you  take  the  bottom  out  of  the  human  mind  ; 
then  you  throw  into  utter  darkness  all    natural    ca- 
pacity, all  ability  ;  then  you  cast  discredit  upon   the 
power  of  man  either  to  answer  questions  or  to  ask 
questions  ;  then  all  his  knowledge  is  vain  ;  his  civil- 
ization is  an  illusion,  and  the  more  you  have  of  it 
the  worse  off  you  are;    all  our  talk  of  progress,  of 
growth    in    knowledge,  and   human  capacity,    and 
dignity,   is  the  mearest   dream,   and   the   sooner  we 
dismiss  it  the  better.     Are  we   prepared    for   that  ? 
are  we  prepared  to  say  that    in  order  that  we  may 
maintain  this  system   as  true,  therefore  the  human 
mind  must  be  blotted  out  ? 

Neither  am  I  prepared  to  say  that  the  system 
prevails  because  it  is  false.  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  believe  or  who  can  by  any  possibility  be 
brought  to  believe  that  the  world  is  ruled  by  lies, 
by  hypocrisy,  and  fraud  ;   that  mendacious  prophets 


WHY   DOES   THE   POPULAR    RELIGION   PREVAIL?       7 1 

can  have  a  hearing  for  hundreds  of  years ;  that 
hypocrites  and  falsifiers  can  hold  the  attention  and 
ravish  the  hearts  of  generations  of  men  and  women. 
That  there  is  charlatanism,  there  can  be  no  question. 
Where  the  carcass  is,  there  the  eagles  will  gather  to- 
gether ;  where  the  honey  pots  are,  there  will  be  flies. 
There  are,  of  course,  false  priests  and  false  prophets, 
— men  who  preach  what  they  do  not  believe,  men 
who  carry  on  machinery  in  which  they  have  no 
confidence  ;  but  these  are  not  the  supporters  of  the 
system.  These  are  the  men  who  are  continually 
eating  at  its  heart,  and  dragging  it  down.  Never 
will  I  cast  such  an  insult  on  the  character  or  the 
dignity  or  the  intelligence  of  human  nature  as 
to  believe  that  jugglers  and  charlatans,  deceitful 
priests  and  lying  prophets  can,  generation  after 
generation,  lead  the  world  in  the  ways  of  error. 
I  do  not  believe  it.  The  system  prevails  because 
men  are  persuaded  that  it  is  true. 

What  then  are  the  causes, — the  legitimate  and 
real  causes  of  the  prevalence  and  power  of  the 
popular  religion  ?  The  first,  as  I  conceive,  is  a 
reverence  for  antiquity.  It  is  an  exceedingly  old 
system,— older  than  the  apostles,  older  than  Jesus, 
older  than  Moses.  Its  roots  are  far  back  in  that 
antique  past  which  history  can  only  conjecture, 
but  cannot  see.     Antiquity  is  always  credited  with 


72         WHY     DOES    THK    POPULAR     RFUGION     PKKVAII.  ? 


power.       The  thing   that   lasts  is  supposed    to  last 
by  virtue  of  inherent  capacity  to  endure,  to  resist 
pressure,  to  beat  off  the  causes  of  death.     An   old 
tree  that  has  stood  in  a  field  for  a  thousand  years,— 
such  trees  as  you  will  find  in  some  parts  of  our  con- 
tinent,— that  has  breasted  the  storms  of  centuries  ; 
that   has   taken   the  heats  of  Summer  and  the  tem- 
pests of  Winter  and  the    blasts   of   all    seasons,  and 
still    has  grown,   has    not    dwindled,   or    weakened, 
or  pined  away,  but  has  multiplied  its   branches   and 
struck   its  roots  deeper  and   thrown   out  its  boughs 
with    wider    and    more    benignant    spread, — such    a 
tree   as  that   is    noble   in   proportion   to   its  years. 
Thomas  Carlyle   said  of  the  old   house   in  Chelsea, 
in   which   he   had    lived  for    many    years,    that    the 
house  was  built   in   times   when    men    used    honest 
bricks  and  good  mortar,  and  that   it   would   have  to 
be  beaten  down  by  main  force  because  the  elements 
had  no  power  over  it. 

But  what  is  true  of  a  tree  or  of  a  house  is  not 
true  of  a  man.  It  does  not  follow  that  an  old  man 
has  become  old  by  virtue  of  any  vitality.  It  may 
have  been  by  virtue  of  the  ver>'  opposite  thing. 
He  may  be  ''  in  excellent  preservation,"  as  we  say  ; 
he  has  taken  the  best  possible  care  of  himself; 
he  has  never  wasted  power;  he  has  never  lost  or 
squandered  force  ;  he  has  never  felt  a  conviction   of 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL?         73 

duty ;  he  has  never  allowed  his  sympathy  to  be  dis- 
sipated in  caring  for  his  fellow^  men  ;  he  has  nursed 
himself.  Selfishness  has  been  the  main  princi- 
ple of  his  life.— he  has  given  nothing  that  he  could 
help  giving  ;  he  has  become  old  ;  yes,  a  shallow, 
sad  life,— that  has  preserved  him.  It  is  death.  His 
antiquity  is  the  antiquity  oi  the  mold. 

An    old    institution    is   not    more    venerable    on 
account    of    its  age,    because   as    it   goes   along   it 
o-athers  up  the    weaknesses,    corruptions,   mistakes, 
frauds   of   the   generations  it    has    passed    through. 
It  lives  by  virtue  of  having  lived,  as  a  habit,  by  force 
of    custom.     Men   cling  to    it   because   their   great 
<Trand-fathers,    or    their    ancestors    in    distant    lines 
belonged  to  it.     They  do  not   question  it;  it   is  not 
challenged  ;  it  is  not  analysed ;  its  history  is  never 
burrowed  into.     It  is  taken  on  trust,  as  matter  of 
course  ;  hence  the  older  it  is  the  weaker  it  proves  to 
be  when  the  historian,  the   man   of  science    or  the 
man  of  knowledge  brings  his  instruments  to  test  it. 
The  antiquity  of  the  bible  is  often   alleged  as  an 
evidence   of    the  divine   power  of   the  book.     The 
question  is,  to  what  does  the  bible    owe    its   preser- 
vation ?     To  its  essential  force?  to  its  vital  idea?— 
to   its  inherent  and   absolute   virtue?     Not   at   all. 
No  book  that  ever  issued  from  the  press  has  been  so 
protected,  nursed,  followed  after,   covered   up,  de- 


74        WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ? 

fended  and  guarded  as  this  has  been.     All   through 
the    earlier   periods   of    Christendom,    all    through 
the  period   of  the  Catholic  church,   the   bible  was 
hidden.     People  were  not  allowed  to  read  it.     It  was 
a  sin  to  doubt  it.     To  question   it  to  read  it  as  any 
other  book  is  read,— was  atheism.    The  church  thun- 
dered  excommunication   upon   those  who  read   the 
bible  with   open   eyes.     There  was   no   criticism    in 
those  days;  there  was  no  scholarship  ;  there  was  no 
knowledge  of  letters  or  antiquities.     The  sciences 
went  in  other  directions. 

When  Protestantism  came  in,  the  bible  was  let 
loose  but  guarded.  Wherever  it  went  it  was  at- 
tended by  a  select  train  of  theologians,  priests, 
scholars  who  were  charged  to  see  that  the  book 
suffered  no  detriment.  The  infidels  and  heretics 
were  warned  away;  this  is  the  first  generation 
when  the  book  has  been  fairly  read  and  spread 
out  like  any  other,  with  full  liberty  to  criticism,  and 
the  time  for  so  much  as  this  has  hardly  yet  come. 

The  antiquity  of  the  bible  is  due,  not  to  its 
inherent  virtue,  for  its  virtue  has  never  been  tried  ; 
not  to  its  absolute  essence,  for  its  essence  has  never 
been  discovered ;  it  has  been  due  to  the  excessive 
care  that  has  been  taken  that  it  should  not  be  ex- 
posed  to  harm. 

Antiquity  a  guarantee  of  worth  !     What  are  the 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ?        75 

oldest    things?     Is   there  anything    older    than    ig- 
norance, credulity,  superstition,  brutality,  crudeness 
of  mind  and  feeling  ?     One  of  the  oldest  beliefs  in 
the  world,  one  of  the  most  popular  and  wide-spread, 
is  the  belief  in  demoniacal  possession,  in  the  infest- 
ing of  human   beings   by  evil   spirits.     We   find   it 
among  the  savage  tribes  of  the  American  continent ; 
we  find  it  in  the  heart  of  Africa ;    we  find   it  in  an- 
cient Egypt.     Go  back  as  far  as  you  can,  you  come 
upon  it,   and    the   further  you   go    back,  the  more 
universal,  the  more  wide-spread  and  deep-seated  it  is. 
There  are   those,  as  you   well  know,   living  to-day, 
who  ascribe  the  manifestations  of  spiritualism  to  evil 
demons.      They   say,   ''  O,   yes,  the   manifestations 
occur;  these   things  happen;    but   it   is  the  devil." 
That  is  the  idea  of  the  Catholic  church  and  it  rules 
many  other  churches.     It  is  not  long  since  a  spirit- 
ual   seance  was   held    in   a  most   respectable   house, 
the  gentlemen  and   ladies   present   being  people  of 
education,    refinement    and    a   certain    amount    of 
culture.      An    Episcopal  clergyman  was  there  pos- 
sessed by  a  severe  conviction   that  all  these  things 
were  delusions  of  satan,  and  persuaded  that  by  the 
swift  introduction  at  a  particular  moment  of  a  charm, 
the  evil  spirits  would  cease  their  operations.     He 
put  a  bible  in  his  pocket  and  went  there  apparently 
in  good  faith.     At  the  height  of  the  proceedings,  he 


76        WHY    DOES    THE    POPl'LAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ? 


produces    the    book.      Instantly    everything    stops. 
No  medium  mutters  ;  no  table  turns  ;   all  the  opera- 
tions cease  at  the  moment.     It   is  an  old   trick.      It 
is  no  more  respectable  or  decent  for  being  old.     The 
Episcopal    rector  simply  classed  himself   with    the 
native   tribes  of  the   American  continent,  with   the 
worshippers   of  Obi,    with    the    priests    of    Baal    in 
Canaan,    with    the    priests    of    Osiris    and    Apis    in 
Egypt.     Nay,  he  might  have  gone  still  further  back 
if  he  desired  that  kind  of  company,  and  found  him- 
self   one   of  the    enormous   brotherhood   of    people 
who  are  always  cringing  and  cowering   beneath    an 
apprehension  of  the  devil,  supposing  that  by  waving 
a  hand  or  making  a  mark  of  the  cross  or  murmuring 
a   few  cabalistic   terms  they   can   beat   the    infernal 
regions    back  I        Three    years    ago,    the     father    of 
Charley  Ross,  who   was  employing  all  the  means  at 
his  command  to  find  his  stolen  boy,  received  letters 
from  every  part   of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  yes, 
from  every  part  of  the   country,  telling  him   that  it 
was  perfectly  idle  to  resort  to  detectives,  that  charms 
and  incantations  were   much  more  effectual.     This 
sort  of  thing  was   done  three  or  four  years  ago.     It 
is  a  well  known  prescription.     You  can  read  it  in  all 
the  books.      It  is  the  same  thing  precisely  that    was 
done  thousands  of  years   ago   by   people,    ignorant, 
credulous,  superstitious,  who  believed  in  necromancy, 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL?       77 

and  supposed  that  a    trifling    farce  could  blot  out 
the  sun. 

Is  there  anything  older  than  the  notion  that  cal- 
amities of  all  sorts  are  sent  by  the  express  permis- 
sion and  decree  of  the  Lord  of  heaven  as  a  mark  of 
his  displeasure  !  If  it  was  a  famine,  or  a  flood,  or 
a  volcano,  it  was  ascribed  to  the  wrath  of  Deity. 
This,  you  know,  is  one  of  the  oldest  superstitions  of 
the  world.  We  laugh  at  it.  We,  in  these  days, 
knowing  something,  say  ''  What  foolish  people ; 
what  idle  and  credulous  people  to  believe  that." 

Yet,  last  year,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  West 
Sixteenth  street,  a  Roman  Catholic  church  broke 
down  and  a  number  of  people  were  killed.  It  was 
due  to  a  want  of  fidelity  in  the  structure,  to  over 
crowding,  to  carelessness,  to  deficiency  of  ingress 
and  egress, — something  of  the  kind.  It  was  due  to 
some  perfectly  simple  natural  cause.  But  what  did 
the  priest  say  ? — for  it  was  published  in  the  papers. 
On  the  funeral  occasion  when  there  was  high  mass 
held,  the  priest  distinctly  told  the  congregation  that 
this  thing  and  all  things  of  the  sort  were  directly 
sent  by  God,  who  sometimes  showed  himself  kind, 
considerate  and  good,  and  sometimes  he  was  deter- 
mined that  men  and  women  should  know  what  he 
could  do  when  he  tried.  Is  the  belief  any  more 
beautiful  for  being  old?  any  more  respectable  ?  Nay, 


78        WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL? 

is  it  any  less  contemptible  now  than  it  was  two 
thousand  years  ago  ?  Is  it  any  less  absurd  and  des- 
picable in  New  York,  to-day,  than  it  was  in  ancient 
Thebes  ?     It  seems  to  me  not. 

The    newest  thing   is    intelligence.     Science   was 
born   only  yesterday.     Philosophy   is  coming  to  its 
maturity.      In    modern   days  we  are   beginning  to 
know  something  about  the  world.     This  is  new,  and 
the  new  experience  is  that  error  should   pass  away  ; 
that  men  should  love  truth  ;   should  seek  the  light ; 
should   wish  to    widen    the    universe    they  live    in ; 
should  question   their  own   hearts  and    understand 
the  constitution  of  society.     This   is   new.     It   is  a 
commendation  of  a  thing  to-day  not  that  it  is  ancient, 
but  that  it  is  modern  ;  that  it  belongs  to  the  era  of 
knowledge,  not  to  the  age  of  ignorance ;  to  a  world 
of  light  and  not  to  a  world  of  darkness. 

Another  reason  for  the  prevalence  of  the  popular 
religion  is  the  persistency  with  which  it  is  taught. 
Week  after  week,  almost  day  after  day,  year  in  and 
year  out,  century  upon  century,  this  creed  under 
one  form  or  another  is  communicated  to  mankind 
by  the  best  taught,  the  best  educated,  the  most 
learned  and  the  most  able  men  there  are, — by  the 
best  men  there  are,  too, — by  men  of  powerful  char- 
acter and  consecrated  life.  '*  Is  it  possible,"  men 
say,  that  that  can  be  wrong  which  is  thus  inculcated  ; 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ?        79 

that  that  can  be  error  which  the  wisest  of  the  wise 
proclaim  all  the  time?  Can  these  be  deceived, 
those  who  outnumber  the  incredulous  ten  to  one  ? 

It  is  forgotten  that  nobody  knows  everything ; 
that  all  men  are  wiser  than  the  wisest  single  man. 
It  is  forgotten  that  no  man  looks  far  beyond  his 
own  generation  ;  that  even  the  wise  men  are  wise 
only  within  stated  limits ;  that  even  the  greatest 
minds  are  circumscribed  ;  that  superior  men,  shut 
up  in  their  system,  devoted  to  an  institution, 
masters  of  the  laws  pertaining  to  their  profession, 
yet  may  be  ignorant  as  children  of  many  another 
thing  that  people  who  are  not  thus  educated 
or  trained  know  familiarly.  It  is  forgotten  that 
some  of  the  ablest  and  wisest  men  who  have 
ever  lived  have  had  their  superstitions ;  that  Lord 
Bacon,  one  of  the  great  intellects  of  the  race  had 
superstitions  which  a  school  boy  to-day  would  smile 
at ;  that  Sir  Thomas  More,  one  of  the  greatest  men 
of  all  England,  one  of  the  grandest  figures  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII,  a  man  majestic  in  character, 
marked  of  will,  magnificent  of  intellect,  believed 
in  transubstantiation  as  devotedly  as  the  simplest 
Catholic  you  can  pick  up  in  the  streets.  It  is  for- 
gotten that  old  Sam  Johnson,  a  giant  in  intellect, 
a  man  who  in  his  day  stood  at  the  head  of  litera- 
ture, a  man  whom,  now,  we  take  off  our  caps  to, — 


8o        WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL? 


that  old  Sam  Johnson  was  a  fri^i^htcned  believer  in 
ghosts,  he  never  brought  iJie  pmver  of  his  viind  to 
bear  on  this  point.  The  tremendous  force  of  in- 
tellect of  Sir  Thomas  More  was  never  expended 
on  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation  ;  that  was 
made  over  to  the  priests.  It  is  forgotten  that  men 
may  be  learned  and  surpassingly  able  in  certain  re- 
gions and  yet  be  only  children  in  regions  with 
which  they  are  unacquainted. 

But  I  have  not  in  my  judgment  touched  the  real 
corner  stone  of  the  popular  religion.  It  is  the  feel- 
ing that  it  is  a  refuge  for  the  poor  ;  a  religion  for  the 
weak,  the  down-trodden,  the  outcast,  the  defence- 
less. It  is  familiarly  called  the  religion  of  sorrow. 
It  is  this  impression  that  gives  the  system  the  deep, 
tenacious  hold  it  has  on  the  heart  of  mankind. 

It  has  always  claimed  this.  Christianity  has  from 
the  beginning  been  the  religion  of  the  poor ;  it 
started  as  the  religion  of  sorrow.  Jesus  made  it  so, 
Jesus  took  the  position  frankly  and  avowedly,  that 
his  gospel  was  for  the  little  ones.  *'  Blessed  are  the 
meek  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth  ;  blessed  are 
the  persecuted  ;  blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for 
they  shall  be  comforted.  Blessed  are  ye  poor, 
for  ye  shall  be  rich.  Blessed  are  ye  that  cry,  for  ye 
shall  laugh.  But  woe  unto  you  who  are  rich,  for  ye 
have    received  your  consolation.     Woe    unto  vou 


WHY    DOES    THE    POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL?        8l 

that  laugh,  for  ye  shall  weep.  "Woe  unto  you  that 
are  full,  for  ye  shall  be  empty."  These  are  words 
in  the  New  Testament.  Jesus  spoke  such  words 
all  the  time.  "  When  you  make  a  feast  do  not  call 
your  friends,  the  rich,  the  cultivated,  the  elegant, 
for  they  will  invite  you  in  return  ;  call  the  poor,  the 
halt,  the  maimed,  the  blind.  Go  into  the  highways 
and  byways  and  compel  them  to  come  in,  and  your  re- 
ward shall  be  great  in  heaven.  They  cannot  recom- 
pense you,  but  your  recompense  shall  be  in  the 
resurrection  of  the  just." 

That  was  the  tradition.  Paul  took  up  the  word  : 
**  Not  many  wise,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  great 
after  the  order  of  this  world  ;  God  has  chosen  the 
weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty, 
and  the  simple  things  to  confound  the  wise."  The 
earliest  christians  called  themselves  Ebionites^he 
poor.  They  were  known  as  the  poor.  They  ac 
cepted  the  title.  It  was  theirs.  It  described  them. 
Their  communities  consisted  of  the  poor,  the  down- 
trodden, the  simple,  the  comfortless. 

This  was  the  tradition  of  the  Roman  Church. 
The  great  saint  of  the  church  is  St.  Francis  d'Assisi 
who  beggared  himself;  his  gospel  was  the  gospel  of 
poverty.  The  crowning  virtue  of  the  Roman 
Church  was  to  be  poor.  To  be  poor  was  to  be  saint- 
ly.    If    you  are  rich    make   yourself    poor.       The 


82  WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR  RELIGION  PREVAIL? 

promise  is  to  the  little  ones,  to  the  hungry,  the 
thirsty,  the  naked,  and  generation  after  generation 
the  promise  has  been  made  to  these  little  ones  in 
dark  Europe,  in  starving  Germany,  in  crushed  Italy. 
*  One  day  all  this  burden  will  be  lifted  off.  The 
world  will  come  to  an  end,  said  the  wretched  ; 
pomp  and  glory  and  power  w^ill  cease.  Then  will 
come  our  turn.  Then  we  shall  sit  down  at  the 
banquets.  Then  we  shall  wear  the  white  raiment ; 
have  the  golden  crown  on  our  heads,  and  carry  palm 
branches  in  our  hands ;  and  upon  us  the  angels  will 
wait.'  That  hope  was  the  deepest  hope  of  the  mul- 
titudes  of  Europe  through  the  middle  ages — the 
ages  of  want  and  suffering  and    woe    unspeakable. 

How  is  it  now?  The  strikers  of  last  summer,  un- 
believers many  of  them  in  all  religion,  still  uncon- 
sciously accepted  this  tradition — The  kingdom  of 
Heaven  is  for  us  ;  for  the  toilers  ;  for  the  poor;  for 
the  unpaid — for  those  who  have  no  opportunity 
and  no  privilege. 

Times  have  changed.  The  faith  in  the  glory  of 
the  hereafter  is  waning.  The  poor  are  impatient  now 
and  will  not  wait  for  the  hereafter.  They  must 
have  consolation  in  the  present.  Give  us  our  op- 
portunity to-day ;  let  us  have  our  chance  at  the 
wealth  and  power,  at  the  glory  and  fashion  of  life. 
It  is  our  turn.     For  us  the  privilege  ;  for  us  the  op- 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ?         S$ 

portunity  !  So,  all  over  the  land,  rang  out  the  com- 
plaint of  labor,  a  cry  uttered  in  a  name  that  was 
never  spoken,  the  name  of  Christ,  who  had  promis- 
ed the  kingdom  of  Heaven  to  those  that  wept  and 
were  hungry.  Yes,  as  long  as  this  deep  seated  woe 
of  the  world  lasts  ;  as  long  as  the  heart  is  hungering 
and  thirsting  for  happiness,  just  so  long  will  this 
popular  faith  endure.  In  vain  w^ill  criticism  dash  it- 
self against  it ;  in  vain  will  scholarship  prove  it 
false ;  the  deep-seated  craving  of  the  heart  will  be 
the  strongest. 

Are  we  not  all  of  the  poor?  Look  at  life.  What 
are  the  startling  facts  on  the  face  of  the  world  but 
poverty,  suffering,  toil  and  disappointment,  mortifi- 
cation and  sorrow  and  pain  ?  Do  we  not  have  to- 
day, some  of  us,  bitter  hours  when  life  seems  good 
for  nothing,  when  everything  is  illusion  and  depres- 
sion, when  the  theories  we  trust  most  and  build  upon 
pass  away  like  vapor  ?  In  such  hours  we  too,  intellec- 
tual men,  it  may  be,  strong  and  cultivated  men, 
reach  out  our  hands  and  send  up  our  little  vain  cry. 
How  many  days  will  it  be  before  the  burden  is 
thrown  upon  the  other  side  ;  before  the  joy  and 
privilege  and  opportunity  and  glory  of  life  are  up- 
permost and  most  apparent  ?  When  it  becomes  so, 
and  in  proportion  as  it  becomes  so,  will  the  religion 
of  sorrow,  the  religion  of    pain,  the  gospel   of    the 


84 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR  RELIGION  PREVAIL? 


I 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL? 


«5 


poor,  lose  its  potency  and  will  decay.  It  is  coming 
to  be  so.  The  time  is  coming.  Through  the  chinks 
we  can  see  the  light.  The  condition  of  man  be- 
comes more  comfortable — more  easy  ;  the  hope  of 
man  is  more  visible  ;  the  endeavor  of  man  is  more 
often  crowned  with  success  ;  the  attempt  to  solve 
the  darkest  life  problems  is  not  so  desperate  as  it 
was.  The  reformer  meets  with  fewer  rebuffs  ;  the 
philanthropist  does  not  despair  as  he  did.  The  light 
is  dawning.  The  great  teachers  of  knowledge  mul- 
tiply, bear  their  burdens  more  and  more  steadi- 
ly. The  traditions  of  truth  and  knowledge  are  be- 
coming established  in  the  intellectual  world.  It  is 
so  ;  and  those  of  us  who  have  caught  a  vision  of  the 
better  times  coming  through  reason,  through  knowl- 
edge, through  manly  and  womanly  endeavor,  have 
caught  a  sight  of  a  Christendom  passing  away,  of  a 
religion  of  sorrow  declining,  of  a  gospel  preached 
for  the  poor  no  longer  useful  to  a  world  that  is  mas- 
tering its  own  problems  of  poverty  and  lifting  itself 
out  of  disabling  misery  into  wealth  without  angelic 
assistance. 

This  is  our  consolation ;  and  while  we  admit, 
clearly  and  frankly,  the  real  power  of  the  popular 
faith,  we  also  see  the  pillars  on  which  a  new  faith 
rests  which  shall  be  a  faith  not  of  sorrow  but  of  joy. 

This  summary  of  the  causes  of  the  prevalence  and 


potency  of  the  popular  religion  will  be  regarded  as 
imperfect   if    no   reference   is   made  to  the  promise 
it  holds  out   of  atonement,  of    expiation    and    par- 
don for  sin.     This  indeed   is  held   by   many  to   be 
the    chief  cause    of  its    influence    over  the  imagin- 
ation of  the  common  people,  as  in  truth  it  seems  to 
be.     For  this  is  the  burden  of  the  pulpit  teaching; 
this  is  the  significance  of  the  priesthood,  the   altar, 
the  sacraments  of  penance,  absolution,  communion 
and  baptism.     The  power  of  the  revivalist  lies  in  his 
skill  to  reach,  penetrate,  stir  the  feeling  of    contri- 
tion, to  awaken  the  desire  for  forgiveness,  to  create 
the  condition  of  peace.  To  judge  by  the  crowds  that 
attend  the  ministrations  of  the  ''  Evangelical  "  minis- 
try who  present  most  forcibly  and  pathetically  this 
aspect  of  the  gospel,  to  judge    of  the    emotion    ex- 
cited by  their  appeals,  it  might  be  concluded  that 
the  sense  of  sin  and  the  craving  for  pardon  consti- 
tuted the  real  source  of  attraction  and  satisfaction 
for  the  adherents  to  the  popular  faith.     And  the  con- 
clusion would  be  just,  if  the  sense  of  sin  were  a  fact 
of    universal  consciousness,    an    experience   in    the 
natural  consciousness  of  mankind.       If    sinners  are 
aware  of  their  sinfulness,  of    their   alienation  from 
God  and  their  need  of    supernatural  regeneration, 
as  they  are  aware  of  their  poverty,  loneliness,  low- 
liness, disability  and  sorrow,  as    they  are    aware  of 


86 


WHY   DOKS  THE   POPULAR   RELIGION    PREVAIL  ? 


their  unhappiness  and  their  hick  of  privilege  ;  if  the 
sense  of  their  spiritual  unworthiness  is  as  keen  as 
the  sense  of  their  personal  and  social  deprivation, 
then  the  title  of  the  popular  religion  to  reverent 
allegiance  on  this  account  might  be  conceded.  But 
so  much  as  this  cannot  be  granted.  A  wide  and  fair 
survey  of  the  experience  of  mankind  does  not  war- 
rant the  opinion  that  the  human  race  or  any  portion 
of  it  is  oppressed  by  the  burden  of  guilt  or  harrass- 
ed  by  the  uncertainty  of  pardon.  The  gospel  that 
addresses  itself  to  the  poor  and  weak,  promising  to 
them  a  future  dominion  and  glory,  appeals  to  an 
immense  number  of  mankind.  The  gospel  that  has 
a  blessing  for  the  mourners,  and  brings  hope  of  con- 
solation to  the  broken  heart,  will  be  welcomed  by 
vast  numbers  in  every  society,  by  some  in  every 
class.  But  the  gospel  that  holds  out  expectations  of 
forgiveness  for  sin  and  reconciliation  with  an  offend- 
ed deity  could  be  sincerely  hailed  by  those  only  in 
whom  it  has  succeeded  in  arousing  tJie  sentiment  of 
alienation.  The  sentiment  in  itself  is  not  spontan- 
eous or  natural,  but  artificial  and  incidental.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  hardest  task  of  the  popular  relig- 
ion is  that  of  creating  \.\\Q.  "conscience  of  sin."  This 
is  the  effort  of  the  evangelical  preacher.  This  is 
the  aim  and  endeavor  of  the  revivalist.  His  suc- 
cess,   begins    with    the   occupation  of  the ''anxious 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR  RELIGION    PREVAIL  ?         87 

seats,"  and  is  complete  when  the  occupants  of  the 
anxious  seat  pass  to  the  prayer  meeting  and  to  church 
membership.     The  work  is  substantially  done  when 
the  soul  is  alarmed  and  softened.     Were  the  sense  of 
sin  natural  and  spontaneous,  a  sentiment  inborn  in  the 
human  creature,  a  conviction  latent   but  present  in 
every  breast,  easily  stirred  and  eager  for  satisfaction, 
how   is  it  that  the  religion    does    not    prevail   more 
than  it  does?      How  is  it  that  periods  of  "■  revival  " 
are  required  ?     How  is  it  that  they  are  no  more  suc- 
cessful ?  How  is  it  that  the  effects  of  them  pass  away 
so  soon  ?     Outside  of    the   ''  Evangelical "   circles, 
the  sense  of  sin  is    not    apparent  ;  inside  it    is    not 
vivid  or  constant  or  even  general.     But    for  the  ef- 
forts to  create  it  by  periodical  excitement,  it  would 
probably  die  out  and  disappear.     Then  the  hold  the 
religion  has  on  the  soul  stricken  would  be  loosened, 
and  the  promise  of  pardon  would  be    addressed    to 
unheeding  ears. 

How  then  can  the  popular  religion  owe  its  power 
or  prevalence  to  its  offer  of  atonement  ?  To  those 
who  have  adopted  its  theory  of  mediation  and  have 
felt  the  pungency  of  its  appeals,  this  may  be,  of 
course  this  is  an  explanation  of  their  allegiance  and 
passionate  attachment.  But  these  are  few,  and  the 
few  are  becoming  fewer.  The  sigh  of  contrition  is 
becoming  faint.     The  cry  for  pardon  is    almost  in- 


$ 


88 


WHY  DOES  THE  POPULAR    RELIGION    PREVAIL  ? 


audible  now.  If  the  churches  were  frequented  and 
the  gospel  tents  visited  by  those  only  who  felt  them- 
selves to  be  "  miserable  sinners,"  the  churches  might 
be  closed  and  the  tents  struck.  Many  causes  ac- 
count for  the  maintenance  of  the  religion  in  preced- 
ence of  this  one.  Indeed  this  one  is  scarcely  to  be 
reckoned,  except  on  those  exceptional  occasions  of 
excitement  which  from  year  to  year  become  rarer, 
and  less  exciting. 

Of  incidental  causes,  fashion,  habit,  tradition  no 
account  must  be  made  here.  Universal  causes  alone 
are  to  be  considered.  Universal  causes  there  are 
and  will  be  for  many  a  generation  yet  to  come.  But 
they  will  lose  their  potency  as  time  goes  by.  The 
new  faith,  founded  on  man's  consciousness  of  pow- 
er, on  his  sense  of  personal  dignity,  on  acquired 
knowledge,  confirmed  experience  and  natural  aspir- 
ation, will  emerge  from  its  obscurity,  and  by  force  of 
its  reasonableness  will  prevail. 


4'- 


FORMAL  RELIGION  AND  LIFE. 


I  hasten  to  lay  emphasis  on  the  word  '^  P^ormal," 
for  on  that  the  whole  significance  of  my  discourse 
depends.     Real  religion  cannot  be  a  hinderance  to 
any  good  thing.      Nobody  holds  that  one  can  be  the 
worse  for  his  reverence,  or  his  hope,  for  his  sense  of 
allegiance  to  fine  principles,  his  loyalty  to  the  high- 
est ideas  of  rectitude,  his  faithfulness  to  noble  stam 
dards,  his  homage  of  good  men,  or  his  constancy  in 
good  deeds.      No  one  was  ever  weakened  or  limitec^ 
by  his  kindness  or  sapped  by  his  disinterestedness. 
By  -  formal  "  religion  I  mean,  what  is  usually  meant 
by  the  phrase,  customary,  habitual,  traditional,  in: 
stituted  religion;  the  religion  that  is  professed  and 
practiced,  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  part  of  the  ac- 
cepted routine  of  life.     This  has  always  been  rec 
ognized  as  a  hinderance  to  noble  character,and  in  all 
churches  efforts  have  been  made  to  break  the  dead- 


90 


F(3RMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


ening  force  of    it,   and  to  release  people   from   the 
thraldom  it  imposes.     But  the  danger  has  not  been 
to  any  considerable  degree,  profoundly  recognised  or 
deeply  felt.     The  extent  of  it  has  not  been  survey- 
ed.    The  radical  character  of  it  has  not  been  appre- 
ciated.    Formal  religion  is  taken  to  be  a  necessity, 
though  a  perilous  one  ;  and  the  attempts  to   escape 
from  its  peril  have  in  every  instance  been  hampered 
by  the  fear  of    going  too  far.      The   form  must  be 
preserved ;  the  habit   must  not   be  loosened.      The 
life  is  certainly  good,  but  the  life  must  not  be  allow- 
ed to  become  so  strong  as  to  abolish  or  impair  the 
instituted  regulation.     Hence  it  comes  about  that  a 
superstitious  veneration  attaches   to  the   letter  and 
visage.      Formal  religion  is   pretty  much  all   the  re- 
ligion there  is.     The  stream  freezes  solid.      It  is  all 
kc  from  the  surface   to   the   bottom.      There   is   no 
possibility  of  breaking  through.     The  heaviest  vehi- 
cle will  not  crack  the  crust ;  if  it  does,   there   is  not 
sufficient  water  below  it  to  wet  the  wheels. 

The  impotence  of  formal  religion  to  stimulate 
life,  to  keep  it  fresh  and  flowing,  to  cleanse  it  of  im- 
purities, is  painfully  felt.  The  church  has  no  visi- 
ble power  over  the  general  conduct  of  men.  It  does 
not  create  virtue  ;  it  does  not  eradicate  vice.  The 
most  destructive  evils  go  on  in  spite  of  it :  vices  of 
enormous  magnitude,   mischiefs   of    vast  scope  and 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


91 


dreadful    import    exist  and  flourish   under  the  eye 
and  patronage  of  its  members  ;  and  the  remedy  pro- 
posed is  an  increase  of  formal  religion,  an  aggrava- 
tion  of  the  very  cause  of  the  demoralization.      The 
accepted  religion  has  ceased  to  be  an  educator  of 
the   public   conscience.      The  intelligent,  the   inde- 
pendent,  the  self-determined,  the  people  of    varied 
interests,  strong  feelings,  and  active  minds,  regulate 
their  conduct  on  principles  which  instituted  religion 
disavows.     The  bible   does   not   restrain   them,   the 
sacraments  do  not  sober  them.     Sermons  and   pray- 
ers fail  to  guide  or  overcome  them.      They  go  their 
own  way,  seek  their  own  ends,  pursue   their  own  ob- 
jects  by  their  own  methods,  and  if  they  hold  them- 
selves accountable  at  all,  accept  the  current  maxims 
of  the  world  as  their  standards. 

This  difficulty  might  perhaps  be  surmounted,  but 
a  graver  difficulty  is  behind.  It  is  here.  Formal 
religion  is  actually  a  hindcrance  to  conduct.  It  is 
in  the  way  of  the  action  of  those  natural  adjust- 
ments on  which  human  conduct  relies  for  its  reason- 
ableness and  steadiness.  It  offers  a  dangerous  pre- 
text and  subterfuge;  allows  men  to  seem  to  be 
something  when  they  are  nothing;  permit,s  them  to 
imagine  they  are  doing  something  when  they  are 
doing  nothing ;  cheats  them  with  the  notion  that 
they  are  complying  with  saving  conditions  when  they 


I  ^ 


92 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


FORMAL   RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


are  not,  and  putting  themselves  in  the  way  of 
strengthening  and  redeeming  influences  where  there 
is  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  virtually  therefore  justi- 
fies them  in  conduct  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  of, 
by  persuading  them  that  their  outward  and  perfunc- 
tory "  service  "  in  the  temple  on  sabbath  days,  will 
be  accepted  in  discharge  of  serious  obligations.  It 
squanders,  in  illusion  and  pretence,  the  force  that  is 
needed  to  regulate  properly  the  concerns  of  life. 

To  illustrate.  The  virtue  of  punctuality  has  been 
inculcated  by  preachers  and  censors  from  time  im« 
memorial.  The  guilt  of  wasting  the  precious  mo- 
ments of  existence  has  been  dwelt  on  with  eloquence, 
not  wholly,  it  may  be  hoped,  without  effect.  But 
the  establishment  of  railroads  has  probably  been 
more  efficacious  in  educating  the  masses  of  the  com- 
munity in  the  virtue  of  punctuality  than  all  the  pul- 
pits. The  train  starts  promptly  on  the  instant,  and 
failure  to  be  at  the  station  on  the  instant,  forfeits  the 
journey.  Hence  a  daily  discipline  that  overcomes 
sloth,  dilatoriness,  indiscretion,  a  discipline  never 
suspended  for  a  single  period  of  twenty-four  hours 
in  the  week. 

The  army  and  navy  are  supplied  with  chaplains, 
who  conduct  rcHgious  services,  and,  in  their  way,  try 
to  make  the  men  aware  of  their  dependence  on  the 
supreme  law.      Hut  how  little  does   army   and    navy 


I 


93 


discipline  owe  to  these  functionaries !  The  necessi-.. 
ties  of  the  service  compel  subordination,  respect  for 
superiors,  deference  to  authority.  Sentiments  of 
loyalty,  of  personal  honor,  of  comradeship,  of  cour- 
age and  even  of  high  devotion  to  duty,  belong  to  the 
military  organization.  They  are  native  to  it.  With- 
out them,  the  organization  would  be  impossible  ;  the 
chaplain  himself  has  his  place  and  his  work. 

Every  form  of  social  organization  and  activity  ed- 
ucates in  characteristic  virtues  of    conduct.      Farm- 
ing educates  in  constancy,  patience  and  toil.     Busi- 
ness educates  in  honesty.     Commercial  credit  edu- 
cates in  honor.     With  the  merchant  integrity  must 
be  the  rule,  otherwise  mercantile    life  would  be  im- 
possible.    The  man  of  business  who  consults  most 
carefully  and  closely  all  the  conditions  of  success  in 
business  is  an  honest  man.      The  dishonest  man  of 
business  is  one  who  does  not  consult   carefully  and 
closely  the  conditions  of  success  in  business,  but  who 
neglects  perhaps  the  better  half  of  them,  and  trusts 
to  some  lucky  star,  some  magical  charm,  some  prov- 
idential interposition  to  secure  him  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  neglect.       Perhaps  he  is  a   religious 
man,  a  church  member,  a  believer  in  the  Christ  and 
his  salvation,  and  persuades  himself  that  his  neglect 
of  the  conditions  of  honorable   success   in  business 
will    be    atoned    for,   excused,   compensated   by  his 


94 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


punctual  observance  of  rules  which  have  nothing  to 
do  with  business  whatever.  It  would  probably  have 
been  better  for  any  and  all  of  the  fraudulent  church 
members  whose  crimes  have  recently  startled  so- 
ciety, if  they  had  never  heard  the  word  ''  religion," 
but  had  lived  entirely  within  the  natural  sphere  of 
their  occupations.  Then  their  minds  would  have 
been  undivided,  and  their  undistracted  will  would  or 
might  at  least,  have  felt  the  full  force  of  the  motives 
which  organized  affairs  bring  to  bear  on  men.  If 
artificial  relations  did  not  give  place  to  real  ones,  at 
any  rate  artificial  relations  would  not  i}itcrfcrc  with 
real  ones.  The  whole  man  would  be  under  one  rule 
of  discipline,  and  that  a  natural  one.  All  the  edu- 
cation he  receives  would  be  normal,  concrete,  prac- 
tical. 

In  the  generation  preceding  ours,  the  practice  of 
family  worship  was,  in  New  England,  all  but  univer- 
sal. There  was  morning  and  evening  prayer;  the 
reading  of  the  bible  was  habitual ;  grace  before  meat 
was  customary.  There  is  an  impression  that  in  those 
days  family  discipline  was  more  thorough  and  do- 
mestic peace  more  serene  than  in  times  like  ours, 
when  religious  usage  in  the  household  are  disregard- 
ed. And  probably  this  impression  is  just.  But  was 
this  more  orderly  regulation  of  families  due  to  the 
formal  practices  of  religion,  or  was  it  due  to  the  ne- 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


95 


cessity  of    subordination,  order,  mutual  sympathy 
and  mutual  co-operation,  in  communities  very  simply 
constructed,  small   and  close,  and  in  times  when  the 
virtues  of    frugality,  obedience  and   plainness  were 
imperative?  As  the  communities  increased  in  size 
and  existence  became  complex,  and  interests  outside 
the  house  multiplied,   and   the  mind   was   occupied 
"  with  a  variety  of  pursuits,  the  practice  of  domestic 
religion  was  discontinued.     It  was  felt  to  be  inoper- 
ative.    Nay,  it  was  felt  to  be  obtrusive  and  imperti- 
nent.    It  furnished  a  pretext  for  neglecting  the  edu- 
cation in  principle  that  common  relations  were  cal- 
culated to  give.     The    households   in   which    family 
worship  was  usual  were  no  sweeter  than  others;  often 
it  would  happen  that   they  were   not  so   sweet,   for 
the  reason  that  religious  obligation  was  supposed  to 
be  discharged  in  the  ofifice  of    prayer.      There  is  as 
much  gluttony  and   wine   bibbing  at    meals   before 
which  ''  grace  "  is  said  as  there  is  at  tables  where  no 
blessing  is  asked.     The  murmured  prayer  has  no  ef- 
feet  on  the  appetite.     There  is  much  more  gluttony 
and   wine   bibbing  at  such  tables  than   there   is  at 
boards  where  reasonable  people  eat  and  drink  to  re- 
pair their  spent   forces ;    there   is  much   more   than 
there  is  at  boards  where  it  is  remembered  that  ''  there 
are  two  to  be  fed,  a  body  and   a  mind."       Without 
reference  to  Providence,  or  expression  of    gratitude 


96 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


for  the  good  things  of  the  world,  a  reasonable  con- 
sideration for  the  needs  of  the  human  creature  will 
lead  to  temperance  and  sobriety,  and,  as  a  rule,  this 
is  the  only  thing  that  will.  Let  the  attention  be 
withdrawn  from  the  abstractions  of  deity  and  fixed 
on  the  practical  concerns  immediately  presented  and 
a  decrease  of  dyspepsia  would  straightway  follow 
moderation  in  indulgence.  Nature,  well  studied, 
furnishes  rule  and  discipline  ;  and  the  knowledge  of 
the  simplest  principles  of  physiology  will  be  of  more 
service  to  the  cause  of  temperance  than  bibles  and 
prayer  meetings.  The  thunder  of  prophetic  denun- 
ciation against  strong  drink  rolls  through  the  gener- 
ations. Abstinence  from  strong  drink  prevails 
among  that  class  of  people  who  consult  the  economy 
of  nature,  and  who,  instead  of  living  to  eat,  eat  to 
live.  The  restoration  of  family  life  to  its  pristine, 
to  more  than  its  pristine,  dignity  and  beauty  will  be 
brought  about  not  by  a  revival  of  formal  religion  in 
the  household,  but  by  the  substitution  for  that,  of 
regard  for  the  practical  conditions  on  which  family 
life  is  naturally  regulated.  Nature  has  a  self-adjust- 
ing power,  and  will  do  everything  when  allowed  to 
work  without  interference.  At  present,  we  are  so 
hampered  by  traditions,  so  haunted  by  bible  max- 
ims and  pulpit  precepts,  so  preoccupied  by  views 
implanted  by  religious  teachers  that  a  rational  study 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


97 


of  family  life  is  out  of  the  question.  None  of  us 
can  give  reasonable  consideration  to  it.  Only  here 
and  there  one  can  touch  it  at  some  incidental  point. 
The  whole  problem  is  open.  Formal  religion  is  seen 
to  be  inoperative;  but  it  is  not  felt  to  be  a  hinder- 
ance  to  rational  views  and  consequently  rational 
views  are  not  entertained. 

The  case  may  be  made  plainer  and  stronger  by 
reference  to  the  matter  of  popular  education.  A 
controversy  is  raging  in  several  of  the  States,  and  is 
likely  to  extend  further  and  to  increase  in  bitterness 
as  it  extends,  on  the  subject  of  religion  in  the  pub- 
lic schools.  Both  Catholics  and  Protestants  enoa^re 
in  it  with  equal  heat ;  the  Catholic  insisting  on  some 
adaptation  of  his  church  theory  to  the  system  of 
instruction;  the  Protestant  stiff  in  the  opinion  that 
the  bible  shall  be  read  there  by  appointment  of  pub- 
lic law.  Both  seem  to  think  that  their  peculiar  eccles- 
iastical or  biblical  aitacJimcnt  is  necessary  to  preserve 
the  instruction  given  from  harmful  tendencies,  to 
make  the  education  profitable  and  salutary  to  the 
mind.  Both  appear  to  believe  that  there  is  a  virtue 
in  the  peculiar  form  to  sanctify  the  natural  exercise 
of  the  human  intellect.  Both  belong  to  the  order 
of  fetish  worshipers,  people  who  ascribe  magical 
properties  to  words  and  signs.  xNeither  is  awake  to 
the  evident  fact  that  the  words  and   signs  have   no 


98 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFK. 


visible  efficacy  whatever.  Neither,  it  is  clear,  sus- 
pects the  fact  that  the  words  and  signs  may  be  in 
the  way  of  the  very  acquirements,  intellectual  and 
moral,  which  they  are  relied  on  to  produce.  That 
the  incidental  intrusion  of  a  pious  exercise  in  the 
morning  has  any  efficacy  on  the  intelligence  of  an 
assembled  school  room  of  pupils,  can  hardly  be  be- 
lieved. That  the  hurriedly  mumbled  prayer,  or  the 
officially  recited  chapter  leaves  any  hallowing  im- 
pression on  the  heart  or  the  conscience  of  the  inat- 
tentive scholars,  is  a  notion  that  only  the  enthusias- 
tic can  entertain.  The  probability  is  that  they  stand 
in  the  wiiy  of  the  natural  discipline  which  the  school 
requires.  It  is  possible,  to  speak  mildly,  that  the 
burden  of  keeping  up  the  moral  elevation  of  the 
school  may  be  cast  upon  these  exercises  which  con- 
sume but  a  few  moments,  and  do  not  then  seriously 
engage  the  feelings  of  the  boys  and  the  girls,  who 
are  thinking  of  their  lessons.  It  is  possible,  to  say 
the  least,  that  the  teacher  as  well  as  the  classes,  may 
consider  that  the  finer  responsibilities  of  the  re- 
lation which  those  present  sustain  to  each  other, 
are  discharged  when  the  religious  services  are  end- 
ed, and  that  the  rest  of  the  session  may  be  occupied 
with.the  mere  business  routine  of  instruction.  This 
would  be  a  positive  injury  and  evil,  for  it  would  be 
an  outright  abandonment  of    the    use   of    resources 


P^ORMAL    RELIGION     AND    LIFE. 


99 


that  are  close  at  hand.  The  conditions  of  a  perfect 
school  lie  within  the  constitution  of  the  school  it- 
self. No  school  can  be  '*  godless  "  in  which  there  is 
devotion  to  knowledge  on  the  part  of  the  teacher, 
and  teachableness,  obedience,  hunger  for  knowledge 
on  the  part  of  the  scholars.  The  implied  relations, 
in  their  simplest  form,  are  full  of  sweet  and  tender 
sanctity.  The  place  where  mind  meets  mind  in  the 
most  impressive  of  all  connections  ;  the  place  where 
the  scholar  imparts  what  he  has  laboriously  acquir- 
ed, and  where  the  immature  reason  is  prepared  for 
its  high  duties,  should  be  sacred,  if  such  place  ever 
can  be,  and  the  endeavor  should  be  to  concentrate 
the  utmost  of  thought  and  feeling  on  the  task  of 
drawing  out  the  natural  resources  of  the  occasion. 
It  is  true,  sadly  true,  that  such  a  view  of  education, 
and  of  the  place  where  it  is  conducted,  will  seem 
sentimental  and  visionary  to  all  but  the  very  few. 
But  may  not  the  fact  that  it  does  seem  so  be  ex- 
plained, in  part  at  least,  by  the  fact  that  education 
has,  through  the  christian  centuries,  been  regarded 
as  a  secular,  that  is,  as  an  unsanctified  thing,  a  thing 
unreligious,  if  not  irreligious,  a  thing  to  be  watched 
and  suspected  by  the  church  ?  Not  till  education  be- 
comes in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  secular ;  not 
till  every  vestige  of  formal  religion  is  expelled  from 
the  schools  ;  not  till  ecclesiastical  and  dogmatic  sug- 


too 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


gestions  arc  dropped  entirely,  will  the  capacities  of 
the  institutions  of  learning  be  fully  developed. 
Thorough  secular  education,  in  which  all  the  natural 
resources  are  called  in  to  make  the  schools  all  they 
may  be,  will  prove,  in  the  best  meaning  of  the  term, 
reliijious. 

There  is  another  point  that  is,  so  far  as  I  know, 
overlooked  in  this  discussion,  but  is  yet  a  point  of 
first  rate  importance.     The  presence  of    formal   re- 
ligion in  the  schools  is  a  hinderance  to  good  practi- 
cal  education  by  rendering  impossible   the   prepara- 
tion of  suitable  text  books.  The  Catholic  complains 
that  the  Protestant  text  books  contain   matter  that 
is  offensive  to  Catholic  minds.     The  Protestant  com- 
plains that  the  Catholic  manuals  contain  matter  that 
is  offensive  to  Protestant  minds.     And  both  Catho- 
lics and  Protestants  make  a  point  of  keeping  in  the 
schools  books   that   represent   their   peculiar   views. 
Hence  the  schools  are  made  the  nurseries  of  sectar- 
ianism.    Sectarian  views  of  history  ;  sectarian  views 
of    churches,   governments,   people,   popular   move- 
ments ;  sectarian  views  of  science  are  inculcated  on 
the  young,  who  grow  up  with  prejudices  that  are  never 
eradicated.     The  honest  truthful  study  of  men  and 
things  is  discouraged.     Now  if  there  is  a  need    that 
presses  on  this  generation,  it  is  that  dogmatic  preju- 
dices of  every  kind  shall  be  overcome.     It  is  an  out- 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


lOI 


rage  and  a  sin  to  perpetuate  in  school  books  the  strife 
and  bitterness  of  by-gone  generations.      We  know 
enough  now  to  perceive  that  the  largest  division  in  the 
church  is  a  sect :  that  Protestantism,  with  its  multi- 
tude of  sects  is  itself  a  sect  ;  that    Romanism   with 
its  bishoprics   and   archbishoprics,    its  ecclesiastical 
dominions  in  many  lands,  is  still  a  sect ;    that    the 
Greek  Church,  which  was  old  before  the  Latin  Church 
was   born    is  merely  a  sect;  that  Christianity  itself 
is  but  a  sect  cut  off  from  universal  religion,  but  one 
of  several  religions  with  which  it  has  essential  traits 
in  common.     This  we  know;  and  to  let  the  ancient, 
obsolete  opinion  prevail  in  text  books  which  are  put 
into  the  hands  of  our  children  is  one  of  those  scan- 
dals that  attest  the  malignity  of  theological   rancor. 
It  is  full  time  that  the  spirit  of  truth  presided   over 
all  the  books  that  we  put  into  our  childrcns'  hands. 
It  is  said   that   the   truth   cannot   be   discovered  ; 
that  we  must  use  such  books  as  are  prepared,   that 
these  must  be  colored  by   the  views  of    those   who 
prepare  them,  and  in   a  christian    country   must    be 
christian,  Protestant  in  a  Protestant  land,  and  Catho- 
lic in  a  Catholic.  It  is  suf^cient  reply  that  they  should 
be  as  free  from  doctrinal  bias  as  they  may   be,   that 
the  aim  should  be  to  make  them   strictly  scientific  ; 
that  the  spirit   of    truth  should   preside   over   their 
making.     The  introduction   of    that   spirit   will  im- 


I02 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE 


port  a  new  and  better  temper  into  the  literature  of 
education  and  will  inaugureite  a  chan^^e,  the   benefi- 
cent effects   whereof    will   be   felt   through   society. 
The  minds  of  our  youth    will    be   expanded  ;    their 
hearts  enlarged.     The  heat   of    controversy  will  be 
allayed  ;  and  the  intelligence  of    growing   men   and 
women  will  be  in  a  condition  to  take  possession   of 
its  intellectual  birthright.      The  school,  private    and 
public,  should  aim  at  nothing  but  the  cultivation'of 
the  intellectual  powers.     Sadly  do  they  need  culti- 
vation ;  sadly  do  they  need  a  field  for  culture  that 
shall  be  entirely  free  from  all  save  rational  occupants. 
The  case  is  stronger  still  when  we  consider  the  in- 
fluence of  formal  religion  on  the  more  general  inter- 
ests of  society,  on  what  we  call  affairs  of  the  State. 
Most  of  you,  most  persons  in  the  country,  are  well 
aware  that  a  movement  is  on  foot  to  incorporate  in 
the  Preamble  of  the  United  States  Constitution  a 
declaration    of    faith   in   Christ.      The   intention   of 
such  persons  is  to  effect  a  closer  union  between  for- 
mal religion  and'the  State,  to  make  the  government 
christian,  whereas  now  it  has  no  especially  religious 
complexion;  is  neither  Christian,  Jewish  or  Pagan. 
Those  who  oppose   the   movement   protest   against 
an  innovation  which  is  entirely  against  the  genius  of 
American  institutions.     The  argument  of  these  last 
is  to  my  mind  conclusive.     Indeed  to  me  the  case  is 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


103 


too  plain  to  be  argued  about  at  all.  There  is  no 
room  for  discussion.  The  proposition  appears  to 
me  too  preposterous  to  be  entertained  by  a  rational 
mind  ;  and  that  so  many  excellent  people  do  enter- 
tain it,  is  an  evidence  of  the  tenacious  hold  that  for- 
mal or  ceremonial,  in  other  words,  instituted  re- 
ligion has  on  the  common  intelligence. 

The  expectation,  if  there  be  any  expectation  of  a 
definite  kind,  is,  must  be,  that  the  presence  of  such 
declaration,  in  the  fore  front  of  the  Constitution  will 
commit  the  nation  to  christian  principles  and  prac- 
tices, and  will  somehow  secure  to  them  in  the  admin- 
istration   of    their   national   concerns,   the     especial 
countenance  of  God,  and  the  supernatural  guidance 
of  Christ.     Strange  expectation!     That    a    form    of 
words,  solemnly  adopted   by  Congress,   ratified   by 
the  representatives  of  the  people  in  Washington,  can 
exert  a  magical  influence  on  the  heart,  and  actually 
sway   the   conscience   of    many    millions    of    men  ! 
Strange  expectation  I  that  administrations  will   be 
honorable,  politicians   pure,  heads   of   departments 
patriotic,  agents  honest  ;    that   Whiskey   Rings,    In- 
dian Rings,  and  all  other  nefarious  combinations  of 
thieves  will  be  broken  ;  that  rogues  will  be  kept  out 
of  situations  of  trust ;  that  the  civil  service  will  be 
reformed  ;  that  party  spirit  will  be  quelled  ;  that  order 
will  take  the  place  of  anarchy   at   the  South  ;    that 


IC4 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


the  conflict  between  civilized  men  and  savage  will 
cease    on    the  frontier,   simply    because   a   form    of 
words  is  added  to  a  public  instrument  I  Yet  this,  or 
something  equivalent   to  this,  something   like  this, 
must  be  the  expectation.     For  to  make  the  innova- 
tion operative   by   any   practical   means,  or  in  any 
practical  manner,  it  would  be  necessary  to  alter  the 
Constitution  of    nearly  every  State  in   the   Union, 
and  to  introduce  new  laws  into  all  the  statute  books 
of  the  people.      It  would  be  necessary,  in  a  word,  to 
effect  a  revolution  in  the  ideas  and  practices   of  the 
whole  American  people,  and  to  condemn  the  funda- 
mental   principles   on   which    the   Government   was 
founded.     A  visionary  and  insane  notion,   which    it 
is  hard  to  believe  that  any  sane  men  entertain,  even 
in  ni^ditmare.    It  is  easier  to  believe  that  the  super- 
stitious  veneration  of  words  and  signs,  the  wretched 
idolatry  of   phrases,  the  uneradicated  fetish  worship 
of  the  barbarian,  still  keeps  its  place  in  a  corner   of 
the  minds  of  men  otherwise  sensible.     So  obstinate 
is  this  superstition  that  we  never  can  be  quite  safe 
against  its  influence,  and  must  be  continually  on  our 
guard  against  its  assaults.     The    mere   existence   of 
the  superstition  acts  seriously  as  ahinderance  to  the 
practical  administration  of  affairs,  keeps  the  popular 
mind  in  a  condition   of    unhealthy  excitement,  fills 
the  imagination  with  wild  illusions,  and  encourages 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


105 


people  in  the  habit  of  looking  for  heavenly  interpo- 
sitions, and  superhuman  assistance,  when  they  should 
be  addressing  themselves  to  the  questions  actually 
before  them. 

The  people  of  our  free  communities  have  no  deep- 
er concern  than  the  establishment  of    a  thoroughly 
secular  administration   of    their  public  affairs,    the 
introduction  of  business  principles  \Vi\.o  every  depart- 
ment of  their  general  life,  the  final  expulsion  of  re- 
ligion in  any  of  its  instituted  modes  from  the  redon 
of  political  regulation.     The  prime  requirement  is 
the  discovery  and  the  wise  employment  of  the  means 
immediately  about  us,    for  adjusting    the    disorders 
that  embarrass,  annoy  and  grieve   us.      Let   formal 
religion  remove  its  hand,  and  leave  to  the  several 
estates  of  the  Republic  the  duty  of  regulating  their 
concerns  in  their  own  way.     Let  it  appoint  no  chap- 
lains whose  few  words  of  official  prayer  serve  as  a 
scape-goat  to  carry  off   into  the   wilderness   of    the 
inane  the  sins  which  legislatures  should  learn  to  cure 
by  well  ordered  thought.     Let  it  appoint  no  sabbaths, 
constraining  people  by  penalties  to  spend  their  day 
of  rest  in  inaction  and  vice,  or  else  in  ways  they  are 
disinclined  to.     Let  it  abstain  from  setting  feast  days 
and  fast  days,  or  intimating  how  the  people  should 
dispose  of  their  play-time.     Let  it  claim  no  exemp- 
tion of  its  property  from  the  burdens  of    taxation 

« 


io6 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


that  fall  on  every  other  possession  of  the  citizen, 
but  retire  from  every  species  of  interference  with 
secular  affairs, 

What  a  purely  secular  government  might  be,  how 
simple,  equitable,  just,  how  firm  in  basis,  how  smooth 
in  operation,  we  are  unable  to  conceive.  No  such 
thing  has  been  tried  or  heard  of.  Some  form  of 
union  between  Church  and  State  has  been  adopted 
wherever  governments  have  been  set  up  ;  and 
whether  it  was  the  Church  that  was  supreme  over 
the  State,  or  the  State  that  was  supreme  over  the 
Church,  the  result  was  a  confusion  of  ideas,  and 
a  clashing  of  policies  that  was  disastrous  to  the  suc- 
cessful working  of  affairs.  Neither  Church  nor 
State  could  do  itself  credit.  Neither  was  left  alone 
with  its  own  problems  and  its  own  devices.  Neither 
could  work  out,  unembarrassed,  its  proper  ends. 

The  immediate  withdrawal  of  formal  religion  from 
every  department  of  public  life  would  be  felt  as  a 
relief.  No  harm  could  possibly  result,  for  no  bene- 
fit is,  at  present,  conferred.  Legislatures  would  be 
spared  an  awkward  and  impertinent  pause  in  their 
proceedings.  Army  and  Navy  would  be  delivered 
from  an  incongruous  adjunct  to  their  organization. 
The  Sunday  would  be  devoted  to  natural  recrea- 
tions, the  higher  cultivation  of  the  mind,  the  study 
of  art,  the  pursuit  of  literature,  the  search  for  inno- 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


107 


cent  amusements,  the  needed  repose  after  labor,  the 
nurture  and  indulgence  of  the  family  affections.  The 
annual  festivals,  celebrated  from  time  immemorial, 
the  festivals  of  seed  time  and  harvest,  would  be  ob- 
served with  varied  cheerfulness  without  the  intrusion 
of  gloomy  or  depressing   ideas,   each  improving  the 
holiday  in  his  own  manner,  and  according  to  his  own 
conception  of  joy.     A    cloud    of  misty,    but   befog- 
ging and  misleading  associations  would  be  dispelled, 
and  in  a  hundred  directions  we   should   see   clearly 
where  now  we  see  darkly.    Even  cobwebs,  if  they  are 
thick  enough,  will  impede  advance.    The  graceful  and 
delicate  tendrils  of  vines  may  form   a  matting  that 
will  render  a  tract  of  territory  impassable  to  an  army  ; 
and  so  the  filmy  presence  of  formal  religion   in   the 
affairs  of    State   proves  disabling.      We  have  very 
nearly  the  least  infusion  of    religion   here,   yet    that 
least  is  enough  to  impede  the  progress   of  practical 
measures.     Increase  it,  and  it  will  seriously  compro- 
mise schemes  of  needed  reform.      Our  experiment 
demands  a  complete  secularization  of  the  State,    in 
all  the  branches  of  its  activity,  /;/  order  that  this  ac- 
tivity may  be  augmented^  and  niay  be  efficiently  direct- 
ed.    There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  a  closer  con- 
nection with  formal  religion  will  add  weight  to  the 
moral  influences  of  the  community.     There  is  every 
reason  to  fear,   from    the   results  of    long  historical 


io8 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


experiment,  that  a  closer  alliance  with  formal  relig- 
ion would  weaken  and  cripple  the  energies  on  which 
we  must  rely  for  our  regeneration. 

Of  course  it  is  in  this  discussion  assumed  that  the 
mediatorial  offices  of  religion  may  at  this  epoch  of 
the  world's  experience,  be  dispensed  with  ;  that  we 
are  in  no  need  of  rescue  from  divine  wrath  in  a  here- 
after. It  is  assumed  that  the  proper  conduct  of  our 
every  day  human  affairs  is  the  only  thing  we  have  to 
trouble  ourselves  about.  To  those  who  believe  that 
a  lost  race  must  be  recovered,  and  united  to  an  offend- 
ed deity,  and  that  religion  is  the  agency  by  which 
this  restoration  can  alone  be  effected,  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say.  Conduct,  Matthew  Arnold  says,  is  seven- 
eighths  of  life.  It  is  at  least  that ;  and  conduct  is 
best  regulated  on  principles  of  its  own. 

Applications  of  the  idea  I  am  enforcing,  occur 
faster  than  they  can  be  specified.  That  formal  re- 
ligion is  a  hinderance  to  satisfactory  dealing  with 
poverty  and  crime,  by  interposing  sentimental  con- 
siderations when  rational  men  would  handle  such 
problems  scientifically,  all  know  who  have  given  at- 
tention to  the  subject.  That  formal  religion  hinders 
the  attempts  to  adjust  the  relations  of  marriage  to 
the  requirements  of  modern  society  is  also  apparent 
to  those  who  have  studied  this  complicated  and  per- 
p  exing  matter.     A  dogma  of  the  church,  or  a  text 


FORMAL    RELIGION    AND    LIFE. 


109 


from  the  bible  is  mighty  to  overcome  the  force  of 
argument  and  of  fact.  But  I  cannot  now  push  the 
argument  further.  It  is  but  an  outline  as  it  is;  and 
the  outline  will  become  indistinct  if  too  many  illus- 
trations are  used. 

The  one  thought  I  would  present  clearly,  and  put 
so  pointedly  that  it  will  adhere  to  the  mind  and  con- 
tinue a  process  of    healthy  irritation  there,   is   the 
necessity  of  drawing  from   the   current   relations  of 
life  the  resources  for  their  proper  regulation  ;  to  dis- 
cover  what  those  relations  involve,  and   satisfy  the 
conditions  of  peace  and  prosperity  as   they  arrive. 
Tyndall  declares  that  in  his  judgment,   matter  con- 
tains the  whole  promise  and  potency  of  life.     To 
one  who  has  never  studied  the  constitution  of  mat- 
ter, who  has  no  conception  what  its  potencies   may 
be,  such  a  statement  seems  wildly  extravagant.     To 
the  naturalist  it  does  not  seem  so.     In  like  manner 
the  proposal  to  extract  from  the  cheap  materials   of 
every  day  existence  the  rules  and  motives  for   mak- 
ing it  wise  and  noble  seems  wild  to  those  who  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  calling  on  Hercules  to  lift  their 
cart  wheels  from  the  mire.      But  here  as  elsewhere 
it  will  be  found  that  human  strength  is  better  than 
superhuman  sentiment,  that  our  valors  are  our  best 
gods. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT 


The  subject  of  my  discourse  this  morning  is  the 
sectarian  spirit.  I  wish  you  to  carefully  distinguish 
between  sectarianism  and  the  spirit  of  sectarianism. 
They  are  very  different  things.  There  is  no  special 
harm,  or  need  be  none  in  sectarianism.  Sectarianism 
means  merely  a  division  of  opinion  upon  subjects 
where  opinion  is  open.  It  comes  with  freedom  of 
thought.  We  find  it  in  every  department  of  phil- 
osophy, in  the  region  of  science  and  of  history. 
There  are  schools  of  art,  of  painting,  of  sculpture, 
of  architecture.  Those  schools  are  properly  sects, 
aiming  to  educate  people  in  the  peculiar  views  of 
culture  which  the  men  of  the  school  represent.  Sec- 
tarianism, therefore,  meaning  simply  difference  of 
opinion,  difference  in  the  interpretation  of  facts  or 
in  the  proportions  of  knowledge,  does  not  necessar- 
ily imply   evil   feeling  or  intention.     Nay,  the  opin- 


112 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


ions  may  be  warmly  held  and  vigorously  professed, 
with  the  spirit  of  conviction,  with  very  intense 
emotion,  and  still  no  harm  may  exist.  So  long  as 
it  is  remembered  that  the  object  of  pursuit  is  truth 
and  truth  only  ;  so  long  as  there  is  no  conflict  for 
party  triumph  but  simply  a  zeal  for  the  prevalence 
of  knowledge,  the  sects  may  respect  one  another  in 
the  attainment  of  a  common  object. 

The  sectarian  spirit  is  another  thing.  This  has 
not  ceased  to  prevail  in  philosophy,  in  science,  even 
in  history  ;  and  wherever  it  does  prevail  it  is  an  un- 
mixed evil ;  for  the  sectarian  spirit  is  the  spirit  of 
strife,  bitterness,  partisan  envy,  and  jealousy;  it  is 
the  spirit  of  mutual  conflict.  It  leads  directly  to 
persecution,  it  ends  usually  in  violence.  Still,  all 
over  the  domain  of  human  inquiry  the  sectarian 
spirit  is  rapidly  passing  away.  It  is  rebuked  in  the 
scientific  world.  It  is  under  reprobation  in  the  phi- 
losophical world  ;  now,  almost  everywhere,  men  of 
ability  and  character  may  pursue  truth  in  the  spirit 
of  truth,  may  hold  their  convictions  with  warmth  of 
feeling,  may  advocate  them  with  intensity  of  ex- 
pression, always  remembering  that  their  view  is  not 
the  only  view,  that  however  well  founded  and  im- 
portant it  may  seem  to  them,  other  views  may  seem 
equally  reasonable  and  essential  to  other  people. 

But  in  the  department   of    religion,  sectarianism 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


113 


Still  holds  its  own  and  is  always  associated  with  the 
sectarian  spirit.  Where  sectarianism  prevails,  there 
the  evil  of  sectarianism  prevails,  over  the  extent  of 
the  religious  world,  in  Christendom  and  out  of  it ; 
the  saints  fight  each  other.  And  it  is  this  spirit  of 
contention,  of  antagonism  deepening  into  hate  which 
drops  the  one  bitter  drop  of  gall  into  the  cup  of  sec- 
tarian division,  and  makes  it  a  fatal  poison.  I  say 
everywhere,  I  say  from  first  to  last,  from  centre  to 
circumference,  sectarianism  and  the  sectarian  spirit 
go  hand  in  hand  with  religion  ;  and  the  object  that 
honest  and  right  minded  men  ought  to  have  in  view 
is  the  separation  of  those  two  things,  the  exorcising 
of  the  sectarian  spirit  from  sectarianism. 

It  began  very  early.  In  the  earliest  period  of  the 
christian  church  we  see  it ;  in  the  quarrel,  for  that  is 
the  only  word  that  describes  it,  between  Paul  and 
Peter  which  Paul  describes  in  one  of  his  letters,  and 
describes  with  so  much  heat,  with  so  much  express- 
ed and  suppressed  passion  that  we  cannot  doubt  that 
even  then,  between  two  men  who  were  apostles,  the 
rancor  of  the  sectarian  spirit  had  struck  root.  For 
what  did  these  men  dispute  about  ?  Not  about  a 
matter  of  opinion,  but  upon  a  matter  in  which,  as 
they  thought,  the  veracity  of  God  himself  was  im- 
plicated.  Peter  took  the  ground  that  the  revelation 
of  the  kingdom,  in  which   the  divine  promise  was 


114 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


THE   SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


"5 


conveyed,  was  given  to  the  Jews  only,  simply  to  the 
family  of  Israel ;  and  to  him  it  was  an  apostasy,  a 
fatal  heresy,  a  flying  in  the  face  of  the  divine  revel- 
ation, to  extend  the  truth  to  outlying  people.  Paul 
took  the  opposite  ground.  To  him  the  revelation 
was  an  interior  experience  and  not  an  outward  fact. 
Christ  came  to  the  soul  and  not  to  the  person.  It 
mattered  not  to  him  that  men  had  listened  to  the 
voice  of  Christ.  He  had  had  spiritual  communications 
from  the  risen  Messiah,  and  the  voice  of  his  own 
private  experience  was  as  authoritative  in  his  judg- 
ment, as  the  spoken  words  of  the  Master.  To  him, 
Peter's  narrowness  and  exclusiveness  was  a  frank  de- 
nial of  the  very  essence  of  revelation. 

At  this  point,  therefore,  the  division  of  opinion 
became  a  dispute,  a  bitter  alterc^ition  which  separated 
the  two  apostles  finally  and  fatally,  and  left  its  mark 
upon  the  whole  history  of  the  church  for  a  hundred 
years.  A  spirit  of  rancor  and  quarrel  I  say.  Paul 
says,  "  When  Peter  came  to  Antioch  I  withstood  him 
to  the  face,  because  he  was  to  blame."  And  of 
John  and  James  and  others  who  called  themselves 
pillars  of  the  church  because  they  had  known  Christ 
in  the  flesh,  he  speaks  comtemptuously.  Of  those 
people  who  claim  to  be  something,  he  says,  I  know 
nothing  at  all,  they  are  nothing  to  me.  So  early  as 
this,  then,  back  in  the  very  beginning,  the  sectarian 


spirit  declared  itself,  in  the  very  circle  of  the  apostles. 
The  first  fact  that  is  conspicuous  in  the  history  of 
the  early  church,  is  the  rise  and  prevalence  of  heresy. 
Bossuet,  two  hundred  years  ago,  published  his  great 
work  called  "  The  V^ariations  of  Protestantism,"  the 
argument  of  which  rests  upon  the  simple   fact  that 
Protestantism    was  merely   a   group    of    sects,    not 
merely  divided  against   each   other  in   opinion,   but 
pitted  against  each  other  in  war.      To  the   mind  of 
Bossuet,  to  the  mind  of  the  Roman  Catholic  and  of 
a  great  many  people  who  are  not  Roman  Catholics, 
the  argument  was  conclusive.     Here  was  a  great  re- 
ligion split  into  feuds  and  factions.      How   is  it    to- 
day ?  According  to  the  last  authentic  record,  there 
are  in  England,  ninty-nine  different  persuasions  ex- 
clusive of    twelve  kinds   of    Baptists,   and  thirteen 
kinds  of  Wesleyan  Methodists  ;   making  in   all   one 
hundred  and   twenty-four  sects,   supporting  among 
them  all  twenty  thousand  places  of  worship,  churches 
and  chapels.     A  minister  of  the  free  kirk  in  Scot- 
land, is  said  to  have  offered  the  prayer  that  his  peo- 
ple might  be  baptised   into   ''the  gospel  of    disrup- 
tion.''    Now,  it  is  not,  I  repeat,  merely  because  there 
are  so  many  schools   of    thought ;    it  is  not  merely 
there    are   so    many    distinctions    in    criticism ;     it 
is  not  merely  that,  in  studying  the  truth  people  come 
to  all  these  different  classes  of    views,  that   such  a 


1 


ii6 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


picture  is  disagreeable.  This  is  a  matter  of  necessity. 
People  can  not  think  at  all  without  differing;  they 
can  not  think  earnestly  without  disputing.  But  can 
not  they  differ  without  hating?  Can  they  not  seek 
the  truth  with  the  ardor  of  earnest  minds  without 
detesting  one  another  ?  that  is  the  question. 

The  evils  of  the  sectarian  spirit  have  always  been 
acknowledged  ;  they  lie  upon  the  surface.     Consider 
the  costliness  of  it,  the  enormous  expense  of  main- 
taining a  half-dozen  ministers  where  one  is  enough ; 
of  building  three  or  four  churches  where  one  suffices 
and  more  than  suffices  to  hold  all  who  wish   to  wor- 
ship ;  of  maintaining   missionary    boards,   domestic 
and  foreign,  sending  out  apostles,  preachers,  colpor- 
ters  with   tracts  for  the  purpose  of  converting  peo- 
ple into  peculiarities  of  dogma.  Think  of  the  enor- 
mous expense  of  covering  a  land  with  ecclesiastical 
institutions  which  represent  division,   disagreement 
and  animosity.     Consider  again  the  waste  in  men  and 
in  mind.     Every  sect  at   present   maintains  a  great 
many  more  preachers,  missionaries  and  officials  then 
are  required  to  do  its  work.       Put  the  demand  for 
the  clergy  at  the  highest   possible   mark,   and   there 
are  about  four  times  as  many  ministers  in    the  mar- 
ket as  are  needed  to  do  the  actual  work   of   religion. 
To  support  and  fill  the  theological   schools,   to  edu- 
cate young  men  for  the  ministry,  to  encourage  men 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


117 


to  enter  the  ministry,  is  simply  subtracting  from  the 
active  brain  of  the  community,  men  that  are  needed 
for  business,  needed  in  the  service  of  science,  litera- 
ture, philosophy  and  art.  We  withdraw  them  from 
vital  and  vigorous  uses  and  waste  their  time  and 
mind  in  a  service  that  does  not  need  to  be  done, 
that  had  better  not  be  performed.  Consider  the 
waste  of  mind  that  is  accomplished  in  all  this.  These 
are  living  brains.  These  thin,  bloodless,  divinity 
students  might  be  dropped  upon  the  world  and  be- 
come  men.  You  are  simply  subtracting  from  the 
amount  of  brains  there  is  in  society,  and,  Heaven 
knows  there  is  little  enough  of  it,  at  any  rate,  you 
are  simply  abstracting  from  it  the  very  quality  that 
is  needed  for  doing  the  practical  business  of  the 
world.     Can  we  afford  this  ? 

See  the  evil  effect  of  the  sectarian  spirit  on  edu- 
cation. We  are  told  on  responsible  authority  that 
in  the  United  States  there  are  three  hundred  and 
sixty  colleges,  not  one  of  them  thoroughly  accoutred 
or  equipped,  all  poorly  ofificered,  poorly  provided 
with  the  material  of  study,  poorly  organized  ;  when 
the  same  amount  of  money  would  maintain  one  hun- 
dred first-class  universities  in  different  parts  of  the 
country  for  the  thorough  education  of  men  and 
women.  Why  this  waste  of  money  ?  Why  this 
waste  of  brain?  Why  this  squandering  of  education- 


ii8 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


al  force?  Simply  because  the  sectarian  spirit  de- 
mands it.  These  three  hundred  and  sixty  colleges 
are,  each  one  of  them,  under  the  direction  of  some 
sect.  No  other  sect  may  come  in.  They  are  "  feed- 
ers "  of  a  denomination,  and  they  are  made  energetic 
as  possible  and  kept  useless,  simply,  that  the  denomin- 
ation may  be  able  to  point  to  them  as  nurseries  for  its 

children. 

And  yet,  these  are   superficial   objections,  hardly 
worth  speaking  of.     Of  what  moment  the  expendi- 
ture of    a  few  thousands   of    dollars   more   or  less? 
We  can  perhaps  afford  men,  we  can  possibly  afford 
the  men    and   the  mind.       But  the   sectarian    spirit 
drops  the  poison  into  the  heart  of  truth    itself,   and 
takes  the  passion  for  it  away.     The  pursuit  of  truth, 
the  one  fine  inspiration   of    noble   minds,   the  thing 
that  has  become  even  fascinating  to  the  best  spirits, 
that  is  pervading  the  community,  that  is  possessing 
men  of  science  and  philosophy,  that  is  touching  with 
licrht  and  kindling  with  fire  the   best   brains  of    the 
modern  world,  is  simply  made  impossible  by  the  sec- 
tarian spirit.    How  impossible?  Because,  the  moment 
a  man  is  wedded  to  an  opinion,  wedded  to  it  as  a  sa- 
cred treasure,  the  moment  a  man   considers  that  his 
belief  is  enjoined  by  sacred  books,  confirmed  by  mira- 
cles, communicated  by  the   Lord   of    Heaven,   that 
moment  a  wall  is  built  about  his  intellect  and  he  can 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


119 


read  no  speculative  books  but  such  as  defend  his  own 
opinion.  He  cannot  look  over  the  fence  to  study 
any  outlying  philosophies ;  he  cannot  appreciate 
any  facts  but  those  he  considers  himself  to  be  facts, 
fiats  of  the  Eternal  ;  he  cannot  enjoy  the  book  of 
science ;  chemistry  is  suspected  and  laid  under  the 
bann,  aye,  even  matters  of  meat  aud  drink  are  ad- 
judged by  the  sectarian  spirit  and  are  pronounced 
upon  as  by  a  divine  authority  I  It  is  simply  impossi- 
ble that  the  belief  in  a  divine  revelation  as  associa- 
ted with  any  church,  identified  with  any  creed,  made 
cardinal  with  any  religion,  can  exist  in  cordial  com- 
panionship with  the  liberal  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
because  such  belief  sets  tradition,  conjecture,  surmise 
guess,  above  knowledge,  and  the  word  knowledge 
has  no  intelligible  significance. 

Hence  it  is  that  an  able  bodied  man,  and  such  a 
man  I  know  personally,  who  bought  books  of  science, 
the  treatises  on  modern  philosophy,  had  them  on  his 
shelves  but  never  opened  the  covers.  He  was  a 
christian  preacher.  He  was  familiar  with  the  books 
of  his  sect ;  he  had  the  current  theology  on  the 
shelves  of  his  library.  Sickness  compelled  him 
to  leave  his  profession  and  he  became  a  man  at 
once.  The  theological  books  became  worthless  and 
were  sent  to  the  auctioneer.  The  scientific  books  were 
kept  and  studied  for  the  first  time.     Thus  it  appears 


%< 


I20 


THE    SECTARIAxN    SPIRIT. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


121 


how  fatal  a  disqualification  this  spirit  must  be  to  any 
earnestness  or  persistency  in  the  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge ;  it  has  passed  into  a  proverb,  true  in  these  days 
if    never    before,   that    knowledge,    and    knowledge 

alone  is  power. 

These  are  grave  accusations,  but  there  is  a   more 
serious  and  solemn  charge  than  this   to   be  brought 
against  the  sectarian  spirit.     It  corrupts   goodness ; 
it  abolishes  charity  ;    it   takes  away   the    faith   that 
men  should  have  in  virtue  ;  and  this  too  is  from  the 
necessity  of  the  case.     For  if  the  Christian  believes 
that  he  and  he  only  has  a  divine  revelation,  that  the 
truth  has  come  to  him  supremely  if  not  exclusively, 
that  his  books  are  the  sacred   books  and   all   others 
are  profane,  then  he  must  believe  that  the  man  who 
does  not  accept  his  belief  does  not  accept  the  truth, 
is  in  the  bonds   of    error,   is  on   the  way  to   death. 
And  believing  that  truth  and  truth  alone  saves,  he  is 
convinced  that  the  unbeliever,  the  more  sincere  the 
more  stubborn,  is  not  in  the  way  of    salvation,   and 
must  be  reclaimed  from  his   delusions.       Hence  the 
melancholy  condition  of  the  religious  press  all  over 
the  country,  a  condition  that  is  a  reproach  to  intelli- 
gence and  a  scandal  to  charity.     I  undertake  to  say 
that  I  have  never  seen  a  religious  paper  of  any  de- 
nomination whatever  that  had  the  conscience  to  be 
fair  to  opponents,  that  ventured  to  be   honest,   that 


could  be  just,  that  was  able  to  give  its  due  to  any 
form  of  hostile  opinion,  that  could  take  a  position 
of  even  ordinary  kindness  towards  the  heretic. 

The  organs  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  are 
necessarily  unjust  to  the  representatives  of  Protest- 
ant opinion.  The  organs  of  the  different  Protest- 
ant sects  are  inevitably  unjust  towards  the  rational- 
ist, are  inimical  towards  the  scholars,  suspicious  of 
the  enquirers,  hard  hearted  towards  the  skeptics, 
doubters,  disbelievers  and  verbal  atheists.  They 
are  under  a  dispensation  that  bids  them  be  unkind. 
Disingenuousness  is  an  element  of  their  piety.  De- 
traction is  an  arrow  in  their  quiver.  Listen  to  the 
speech  in  regard  to  rationalists,  materialists,  "  infi- 
dels "  as  they  are  called,  unbelievers,  misbelievers', 
disbelievers,  that  is  current  in  orthodox  circles,  not 
in  all  orthodox  circles,  but  in  the  more  intense  cen- 
tres of  the  faith.  I  have  heard  myself  from  the  lips 
of  an  orthodox  preacher,  that  by  the  necessity  of 
the  case  the  disbeliever  in  a  personal  God  must  steal 
and  lie;  as  if  he  were  under  a  sort  of  moral  compul- 
sion to  do  it  !  The  speaker  could  not  say  anything 
else,  could  not  think  otherwise  than  he  spoke. 
Of  course  he  believed  what  he  asserted.  He 
was  honest  and  candid  ;  but  what  a  spirit  must 
it  be  that  can  make  an  honest  man  conceive  and  ut- 
ter a  blasphemy  like  that  !  For  this  was   said  not   a 


122 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


year  ago  in  my  own  hearing,  and  said  in  the  face  of 
the  fact  that  there  are  disbeHevers  in  a  personal  God 
among  ourselves,  in  our  own  community,  in  Eng- 
land, France,  Italy,  Germany,  bearing  the  highest 
stamp  of  character,  men  of  consecrated  lives,  who 
devote  themselves  with  the  full  capacity  of  their 
conscience  to  the  task  of  making  the  world  better; 
men  like  Huxley,  Herbert  Spencer,  Tyndall,  who 
cannot  confess  any  definition  of  Deity,  who  are  yet 
irreproachable  in  their  lives,   and  spotless   in    their 

character. 

Such  a  saying  as  that  which  I  have  quoted,  is 
stated  in  open  presence  of  the  fact  that  the  "  religion 
of  humanity,"  as  it  is  called,  which  makes  a  point 
of  excluding  the  belief  in  a  supernatural  world  and 
confines  itself  strictly  to  the  social  arrangements  of 
this  world,  is  entertained  by  people  who,  having  re- 
jected Christianity  altogether,  are  exerting  a  wonder- 
ful power  over  the  working  classes,  urging  them  to 
be  honest,  faithful,  loyal,  economical,  considerate  of 
their  fellow-men.  The  ''  religion  of  humanity  "  claims 
as  its  peculiarity,  that  it  makes  men  simple,  disinter- 
ested, consecrated,  and  in  the  true  sense,  saintly. 
The  sectarian  spirit  compels  this  uncharitableness  ; 
and  we  never  shall  have  done  with  it  until  the  sec- 
tarian spirit  is  forever  abolished. 

These  faults  have  always  been  seen ;    they  have 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


123 


always  been  acknowledged  ;  and  efforts  have,  at  all 
times,  been  made  to  remove  them.  The  earliest 
efforts  in  the  church  were  religious,  prompted  by  the 
feeling  of  communion  with  the  Christ,  the  living 
Head.  The  exquisite  lyric  on  charity,  in  the  13th 
chapter  of  Paul's  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
was  written  to  lay  the  evil  spirit  of  sectarianism  that 
was  working  like  a  poison  inside  of  his  own 
churches.  ''  Now  abide  Faith,  Hope,  Charity, 
these  three.  But  the  greatest  of  these  is  Charity." 
''  Have  fervent  Charity  among  ourselves."  ''  Bear 
one  another's  burdens."  Remember  that  you  have 
one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism  ;  remember  that 
you  are  all  baptised  into  one  spirit,  that  a  common 
Christ  is  the  Saviour  of  all ;  that  the  deliverance  from 
sin  is  a  common  deliverance ;  that  the  hereafter 
opens  its  promise  to  all  alike.  In  the  same  strain 
other  apostles  speak — their  words  may  be  read  in 
all  the  epistles  of  the  New  Testament,  to  the  effect 
that  men  should  forget  differences,  should  cease 
to  hate,  should  love  each  other,  and  should  try  to 
bind  themselves  together  by  mutual  consideration 
and  helpfulness. 

Yet  these  earnest  apostolical  injunctions  went  no 
further  than  the  limits  of  the  Christian  church. 
Paul's  charity  was  applied  only  to  Christians,  They 
were  to  love  one  another ;    they  were   not  bidden  to 


124 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


love  the  heathen  outside  ;  they  were  not  charged 
to  love  the  Jew  or  the  Greek,  the  Roman  or  the 
barbarian  ;  they  were  brothers  and  sisters  in  Christ 
together;  they  were  not  brothers  and  sisters  in 
humanity,  with  all  the  rest  of  mankind. 

The  Roman  Church  had  its  own  peculiar  methods 
of  suppressing  dissent,  by  burning  it  up.     It  would 
drown  it  in  its  own  blood;    it  would   elevate  it   by 
hanging  it  on  the  cross  ;  it  would  send  it  to  heaven 
in  a^'chariot  of  flame.     The  Roman  Church  boasts  of 
its  unity.      What  sort   of    unity  ?     A  unity  created 
and  established  by  the  extinction  of  everything  that 
threatened  to  break  it.      One   law,  one   scepter,  one 
dominion,— that  is  what  it  means.      When    Bossuet 
wrote  against  the  variations  of   Protestantism,  none 
so  well  knew  as  he  that  the  same  argument  could  be 
brought   with    fatal     force    against    Romanism,    if 
Romanism    had   allowed   dissent    to    express   itself. 
Protestantism  kept  an  open  ear  to  the  voices  of  dis- 
sent.     Romanism  stifled  the  voices  with  dust.     The 
variations  of  Protestantism   were  due  to  fidelity  to 
the  Spirit  of  Truth.      The   unity   of  Rome  was  due 
to  the  neglect  of  it.     But  what  did  Protestantism  do 
here?     The  method  of   Protestantism   is   a  method 
of    arrangement.      The   apostolic    method    was    the 
method  of  love.      The  Roman  Catholic  method  was 
the  method  of  extinction  ;    the  Protestant  method 
is  the  method  of  diplomacy. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


^25 


In  1846,  the  Evangelical   Alliance  was   formed  at 
Edinburgh.      In  1867  the  American   branch  of   the 
Evangelical  Alliance  was  established    in   New  York. 
In  1873,  as  we  all  remember,  the    Alliance  held  its 
first  grand  convention   in   the   United  States.     The 
object   of   the  Alliance  was  to  overcome,  luitJiin  the 
circle  of  Evangelical  denominations^ — comprising  Bap- 
tists,   Methodists,    Presbyterians  of   both  schools — 
the    influence    of    the    sectarian     spirit.       The  aim 
was  to  promote  union  among,  ''  Evangelical"  Chris- 
tians.    It  was  designed  to  unite  them   altogether  in 
closer  bonds  to  the  Christ.       The   founders  promul- 
gated no  authoritative  creed  ;  laid  down  no  compul- 
sary  rule ;    established   no   ecclesiastical   dominion. 
The  spirit  was  intended  to  be  entirely  cordial,  open, 
fraternal,  but  within  the  limits  of  "  Evangelical  de- 
nominations."     They    openly    professed   and    pub- 
lished   their    faith    in    the    leading  articles    of   the 
Evangelical    system   of    religion.     The    effect    may 
have  been  to  extinguish   the   sectarian  spirit  within 
the   limits  of  these  denominations.     But  did  it  ex- 
tinguish the  sectarian  spirit  towards  those  without? 
It    deepened    it  ;    it  intensified  it.     The  Evangelical 
Alliance  meant  war  against   Romanism    on  the  one 
side,  and   against   Rationalism  on  the  other.     The 
Unitarians  were  excluded  from   the  fellowship  ;    so 
were    the    Universalists ;      so    were    the    Sweden- 


126 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPlRI'l". 


borgians.       The    Rationalists    were    of    course    ex- 
eluded.     Naturalism,    under   any  of  its   definitions, 
whatever  its  spirit,  was  put  down.       Materialism  as 
Christianity  defines  it,  was  cast  out.     Every  opinion 
was   laid  under  the   ban  except   Evangelical  relig- 
ious opinion.      It  follows,  as  a  thing  of   course,  that 
this  method  of  diplomacy  as  a  part  of  the  Evangeli- 
cal  Alliance,  was   exceedingly   narrow,  exceedingly 
limited,— commendable   enough  in  its  spirit,   as  far 
as  it  went,  but   confined  to  a  small  section  even  of 
Christendom.     Outside  of    that    section    the  secta- 
rian spirit  raged  furiously  as  ever. 

Where   then   is   our  help?     What   are  we  to   do 
about  it  ?     There  is  but  one  method   of  help   and 
that  is  to  pronounce    irrational  and   hurtful  all  be- 
lief in  special  revelation  ;    to  say  there  is  no   such 
thing   as   exclusive   possession  of  truth  ;  that  if  one 
relig'ion  may  claim  a  revelation  the  same  right  must 
be  conceded  to  others;  that  all  religions  stand  upon 
one  ground  of  authority  by  reason  of  their  having 
the  ^^ame   origin   and   sharing  the  same  idea ;  that 
revelation,  if  we  still  prefer  that  worn  out  phrase, 
comes  to  all  faiths  alike,  and  that   no   form  of  faith 
has  the  right  to  tyranize  over  another.      This  is  the 
position  that  we,  in  this  generation,  are  able  to  take. 
For  the   first  time   in   history  we   are  able  to  plant 
ourselves  on  this  ground.     The  attitude  could  not 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


127 


have  been  taken  before ;  it  could  not  have  been 
taken  even  thirty  years  ago,  because  it  is  within  the 
last  thirty  years,  aye  within  a  much  more  recent 
period  than  this  that  the  study  of  what  is  called  the 
science  of  comparative  religions  has  been  instituted; 
The  greatest  scholars  of  the  century,  in  the  East 
and  in  the  West,  in  Germany  and  in  England,  have 
been  devoting  themselves  in  the  spirit  of  real  devo- 
tion to  the  study  of  the  different  religious  faiths 
of  the  world. 

The  sacred  books  of  these  religions  have  been 
brought  to  light,  translated,  and  now,  for  the  first 
time  the  studious  reader  has  before  him,  not  the 
Hebrew  and  Christian  bibles  only,  but  all  the  bibles 
that  there  are — all  the  scriptures  that  have  voiced 
the  religious  sentiment  of  the  race.  At  last  we  can 
compare  the  religions  together.  On  comparing 
them,  what  do  we  see  ?  We  see  this,  that  all  relig- 
ions are  of  one  family,  that  all  are  of  common  kin-, 
that  all  come  of  a  common  stock ;  that  all  are  born 
of  the  self  same  impulse ;  that  they  are  all  steps  in 
the  intellectual  development  of  mankind.  All  have 
the  same  institutions  and  forms,  the  altar,  the  tem- 
ple, the  sacrifices,  the  priest-hood  ;  all  have  archi- 
tecture, sculpture  and  painting.  All  have  the  same 
essential  doctrines ;  all  have  the  same  definitions  of 
God ;  all  have  similar  conceptions  of  the  hereafter ; 


128 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


129 


all  have  one  central  thought,  the  human  need  of  sal- 
vation ;  all  teach  a  theory  of  mediatorial  rescue  ;  all 
rest   on   a  principle  of  atonement  which   is    essen- 
tially  the    same    in   them  all.       Moreover,  it  is  dis- 
covered   that    the    moralities    of    all    religions    are 
essentially  and  often  precisely  alike.     All  teach  jus- 
tice, brotherly  love,  kindness,  forgiveness,  veracity  ; 
all  exalt  the  cardinal   virtues  ;    all   recommend  wor- 
ship,   devoutness,    aspiration:     all    encourage    the 
seeking    of    man   after  the  infinite.      I    could    stand 
here    by  the  hour  and   read   passages    from    other 
bibles  than  the  Christian  or  the  Jewish— passages  of 
the  most  exquisite  truth  and  tenderness,  the  most 
delicate  sense   of  divine  things ;  taken  from  books 
that  were  written  centuries  before  Christ  was  born, 
and  among  heathens;    passages   more  delicious   in 
their  moral  aroma  than   anything  you  can  find   in 
the   New    Testament.       This  we   afifirm ;    it   is   not 
matter  of  conjecture  ;  it   is  not    matter  of  specula- 
tion or  of  guess  ;  it  is  matter  of   simple  knowledge. 
We  have  but  to  use  our  eyes  and   the   fact  is  before 
us,  that  all  the  religions  of  the  race  are  of  one  stuff. 
Moreover,  as  we  examine  them  we  see  that  all 
have  some   central  person,  some  great  prophet    or 
law  giver,  some  great  teacher  or  saint  who  is  made 
the  centre  of   the  system.     In   India    they  call   him 
Buddha;  in  China  they  revere  him  as  Confucius;   in 


Persia  his  name  is  Zoroaster  ;  in  Palestine  he  towers 
up  as  Moses;  in  Christendom  he  is  worshipped  as 
Jesus.  They  are  a  line,  a  brotherhood  of  teachers. 
Each  one  is  the  soul  of  his  own  system  ;  the  pivot 
of  his  own  faith.  Each  has  the  peculiarity  of  his 
age  and  race  about  him.  Each  has  his  limitations, 
national,  temporal,  personal.  Each  stands  for  him- 
self and  for  his  idea.  Each  is  venerated,  beloved, 
followed  by  those  of  his  own  race.  This  too  we 
know. 

It  is  not  said,  or  suggested  in  all  this  that  the  re- 
ligions of  men  are  equal,  that  one  is  no  better  than 
another.  You  might  as  well  say  that  the  chemistry 
of  the  middle  ages  was  equal  to  the  chemistry  of 
to-day ;  that  the  botany  of  a  thousand  years  ago 
attained  as  beautiful  a  development  as  the  botany 
that  is  taught  at  Harvard  or  Columbia  ;  that  the 
telescope  which  was  used  by  Galileo  was  equal  to 
the  telescope  that  is  used  by  Lord  Rosse.  It  stands 
to  reason  that  everything  improves  with  age.  As 
we  go  on  our  knowledge  increases. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  grant  that  Christianity  is 
the  queen  of  Faiths ;  the  most  impressive,  tender, 
humane  form  of  religion  that  is  known  to  the  world. 
Why  ?  Because  it  is  the  last.  It  has  the  benefit  of 
all  that  went  before.  It  is  the  residuary  legatee  of 
the  ancient  religions  of  the  race.      It  is  the  religion 


I30 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


131 


of  the  modern  world  and  of  the  modern  man.  It 
is  the  religion  of  the  most  intellectual,  the  most 
persevering,  the  most  humane  epochs  of  history. 
Of  course  it  is  the  best.  Its  age  is  the  age  of  art, 
of  philosophy,  of  science,  of  speculation  and  phi- 
lanthropy. It  has  used  its  advantages.  It  has 
improved  by  its  opportunities.  Rut  it  did  not 
create  them.  Christianity  did  not  create  Raphael ; 
Christianity  did  not  create  Michael  Angelo.  These 
men  did  more  for  the  church  than  the  church  ever 
did  for  them.  The  world  has  endowed  Christianity 
W'ith  its  opulence,  and  that   is  the  reason  it  is  so 

rich. 

But,  now,  it  is  said  that  if  the  spirit  of  sectar- 
ianism declines,  religion  itself  will  be  abolished  ; 
there  will  be  no  seeking  for  truth ;  no  zeal  for 
opinion  ;  no  effort  to  establish  right  above  wrong. 
The  temples  will  be  deserted,  the  systems  of 
thought  will  be  abandoned  and  we  shall  lapse 
into  utter  indifference  and  imbecility,  if  the  sec- 
tarian spirit  ceases.  It  seems  that  the  sectarian 
spirit  makes  people  earnest.  It  looks  as  if  the  sec- 
tarian spirit  kept  the  workers  on  their  feet. 

The  objection  reminds  one  of  a  vulgar  objection 
to  civil  service  reform,  an  objection  based  on  the 
idea  that  politics  in  America  are  necessarily  servile 
and  mercenary  ;  that  if  we  take  away  the  doctrine 


that  the  spoils  belong  to  the  victor,  there  will 
be  no  more  victors  and  no  more  contestants 
for  spoils ;  all  interest  in  politics  will  under 
these  circumstances  decline ;  the  interest  in  the 
higher  problems  of  government  will  cease,  and  there 
will  be  nobody  left  to  look  after  public  affairs. 
Then  we  reply,  let  politics  cease.  Let  all  the 
zeal  stop  and  stop  at  once,  which  drives  into 
political  life  the  hirelings  who  fight  for  plunder. 
Let  us  dispense,  once  for  all,  with  the  services  of 
men  who  take  up  the  problems  of  government  and 
assume  the  management  of  human  affairs  out  of 
greed,  in  the  temper  of  the  buccaneer  hungry  for 
power,  thirsty  for  wealth.  Let  them  go.  We  shall 
be  better  without  them  ;  and  let  honorable  men 
come  to  the  front.  Let  the  men  who  really  love 
their  country  better  than  they  love  pelf,  who  have 
not  taken  an  interest  in  public  affairs  before  because 
they  were  in  the  hands  of  beggars,  poltroons  and 
thieves ;  let  such  as  these  have  their  chance.  Let 
them  show  a  rational  interest  in  government  as  it 
should  be,  and  we  shall  have  politics  managed  in  a 
very  different  way  from  that  usual  hitherto. 

This  is  our  feeling  in  regard  to  religion.  If  relig- 
ious institutions,  creeds,  and  ideas  depend  for  their 
existence  upon  dogmatism,  malice,  uncharitable- 
ness,  then  in  humanity's  name  let  us  have  done  with 


132 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


U3 


them  forever.  Let  us  never  build  another  church  ; 
let  us  never  ordain  another  preacher ;  let  us  never 
collect  another  congregation  ;  because  however  much 
it  may  be  for  the  interest  of  men  to  support  ''  the 
gospel "  it  is  of  deeper  interest,  aye,  of  everlasting 
concern  to  men  that  they  should  observe  the  condi- 
tions of  brotherly  society. 

It  is  permitted  by  thoughtful  men  to  entertain  a 
vision   of   what   might  be  and    may    be    were    the 
sectarian    spirit    to    be    exorcised.       Can    we    sup- 
pose   religious   men    not    to  hate  each   other;    can 
we  suppose  them   not  to  seek    continually  to  drag 
one  another  down  and   supplant  one  another,  we 
can    dream    of    a  kingdom   of    heaven.       Did    the 
Turk  and  the  Christian,  off  by  the   Black   Sea,  con- 
tend, not   as   believers   and    unbelievers,  but  simply 
as  men,  the  Russian  war  might  have  been  ended  be- 
fore this.     Take  the  element   of  the  sectarian  spirit 
out  of  the  contest  and   the   worst   element  of  the 
fury  would   be   expelled.     The  Turk  is  a  fanatic  for 
his  faith  ;  the  Christian  is  a  fanatic  for  his.     Let  the 
hatred  of  fanaticism  die  ;  let  the  conflict  be  between 
simply  those  who  are  waging  war  for  the  acquisition 
of  territory  or  the  balance   of  power,  and   it   could 
not  last.     What  gives  bitterness   in    England  to  the 
controversy  over  this  very  Russo-Turkish  conflict  ? 
It  is  once  more,  the  sectarian   spirit.       On   the   one 


side,  there  are  Christians  who  abhor  the  Turk,  who 
call  on  the  Lord  in  their  prayer  and  on  their  fellow 
Christians  in  public  meetings,  endeavoring  to  create 
a  public  spirit  that  will  put  the  crescent  down  and 
commit  England  to  the  work  of  suppressing  Moslem- 
ism  in  Europe.  On  the  other  side, — and  here  is 
where  the  counter-current  comes  in, — the  Christians 
of  the  English  church  hate  the  Christians  of  the 
Greek  church,  the  church  of  Russia  ;  thus  we  find 
Christians  in  England  taking  the  ground  that  Rus- 
sia is  in  the  wrong,  and  that  Russia  must  be  held  in 
check  by  an  alliance  of  England  with  Turkey.  Take 
out  this  element  of  the  sectarian  spirit ;  let  the 
Englishman  judge  of  this  conflict  on  rational  histor- 
ical, or  philosophical  grounds  as  he  would  judge 
any  other,  and  at  once  the  convulsion  that  for  the 
past  year  has  been  rending  the  British  communities 
in  twain  would  be  quelled. 

Take  away  the  evil  spirit  of  sectarianism  and 
there  would  be  peace  among  the  religions  of  the 
world,  among  the  sects  of  Christendom,  among  the 
churches  that  are  established  among  the  people 
without, — call  them  by  whatever  name  you  will. 

Why  does  the  American  loathe  the  Chinaman  ? 
Partly,  at  least,  because  the  Christian  abhors  the 
Buddhist.  Take  away  the  abhorrence  that  the 
Christian  has  for  the  pagan,  and  Chinaman,  German, 


134 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


American,  Frenchman,  Englishman  would  fall  into 
line  together,  would  tend  to  mingle,  would  work 
cheerfully  at  the  same  trades,  pursue  the  same  in- 
dustries. We  might  then  dispense  with  legislation 
and  police  force  to  protect  the  weak  against  the 
strong. 

•  What  happened  the  other  day  in  Texas?  A 
brutal  mob  seized  one  of  the  most  respectable  citi- 
zens in  town,  an  eminent  physician,  beguiled  him 
from  his  home  on  false  pretence  of  charity,  carried 
him  to  a  solitary  place,  bound  him  to  a  tree  and 
beat  him  nearly  to  death,  because  he  was  an  infidel 
according  to  their  apprehension  of  the  term  ;  then 
they  told  him  that  if  he  repeated  the  offence  of  pro- 
mulgating infidel  opinions  they  would  hang  him, 
and  if  anybody  else  presumed  to  preach  infidelity 
he  must  die  the  death,  for  they  would  put  a  stop  to 
disbelief.  Would  anything  like  that  happen,  even 
in  Texas,  if  the  sectarian  spirit  could  be  quelled  and 
exorcised  ? 

Then  again,  think  of  the  restoration  of  dignity  to 
the  human  mind  by  the  elevation  of  its  seat  above 
dogmatism.  By  the  verdict  of  Christendom  the  hu- 
man mind  is  impotent  to  find  the  truth.  The 
Christian  looks  back  upon  the  religious  develop- 
ment of  the  past  and  finds  it  a  series  of  frightful 
mistakes  and  atrocious  blunders ;  a  chaos  of  super- 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


135 


stitions — a  wild  farrago  of  hideous  dreams.  These 
monstrous  idolatries  show,  in  the  judgment  of 
Christendom,  what  degradation  the  human  mind 
sinks  into  when  left  to  itself.  With  what  different 
feelings  the  rationalist,  clear  minded  and  instructed, 
looks  at  the  same  facts  I  We  are  persuaded  that 
all  religions  come  out  of  the  human  mind  in  the 
process  of  the  development ;  that  they  are  all  efforts 
and  earnest  efforts  on  the  part  of  men  to  understand 
the  conduct,  and  get  at  the  secret  of  the  universe. 
Hence  there  is  no  credulity,  however  blind,  no 
superstition,  however  dark,  no  error,  however  mis- 
leading, no  idolatry,  however  grotesque,  no  delu- 
sion, however  visionary,  that  does  not  represent  a 
phase  in  the  effort  of  the  human  mind  to  gain  more 
light  upon  the  problems  that  are  flung  down  in  its 
path.  The  whole  religious  history  of  mankind  is 
one  long  testimony  to  the  earnestness,  the  deter- 
mined patience  of  the  intellect  of  man.  In  all  ages, 
in  all  races,  man  has  tried  to  lift  himself  above  his 
lowest  conditions,  to  understand  himself  and  the 
world  in  which  he  lives.  What  feelings  of  respect, 
respect  amounting  almost  to  reverence,  do  we  have 
for  even  the  most  bewildering  systems  that  have 
been  professed  by  human  creatures,  when  we  look 
at  them  in  this  new  light  I  Of  course  the  ancient 
men,  like  the  modern,  make  mistakes.     The  ques- 


136 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


tion  is  not  whether  we  make  mistakes  but  whether 
we  make  mistakes  in  the  honest  pursuit  of  truth, 
whether  we  are  wiUing  to  drop  them  when  wiser 
thoughts  come.  This  the  elect  portion  of  the  hu- 
man race  has  shown  itself  able  and  determined  to 
do;  in  their  view  the  human  mind,  instead  of 
stumbling  and  faltering,  falling  and  groping  in  the 
mire,  lying  supinely  in  the  dust  waiting  for  the 
touch  of  some  inspired  teacher  to  communicate  to 
it  a  thrill  of  life,  stands  on  its  own  feet,  itself  the 
creator  of  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual 
world.  The  creeds  are  man  thinking,  the  tem- 
ples are  man  worshipping,  the  altars  are  man 
sacrificing;  the  priesthoods  are  man  striving  to 
establish  harmony  between  the  temporal  and  the 
eternal ;  the  prophets  are  man  voicing  the  edicts  of 
conscience. 

Will  the  sectarian  spirit  ever  die  ?  Never,  so 
long  as  Christianity  exists,  because  it  is  the  essence 
of  Christianity,  as  of  every  system  that  claims  for 
itself  the  sole  possession  of  a  divine  revelation. 
Every  such  system  claims  for  itself  an  absolute 
superiority  over  the  speculative  genius  of  man.  As 
long  as  Christianity  endures  it  must  entertain  this 
conviction.  Therefore,  as  long  as  Christianity  en- 
dures, the  poison  of  the  sectarian  spirit  must  drop 
into  the  world.    A  sad  outlook  ;  yes.     But  courage ! 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


137 


Religion  is  more  than  Christianity.  Christianity  is 
only  one  form  of  its  expression,  which  has  had  its 
birth,  its  growth,  its  culmination,  and  is  now  verging 
towards  its  decline.  The  reason  of  man  is  more 
than  any  church,  more  than  any  system,  more  than 
all  systems  and  churches  ;  man  is  more  than  apos- 
tle or  saint,  more  than  law-giver  or  prophet. 

The    creative    spirit    of   truth    is    at    work    most 
diligently  in  our  communities  in  modern  times,  re- 
viving religious    ideas,    quickening  religious    senti-* 
ments  in  a  way  that   few   of   us   suspect.       Here    is 
Spiritualism,  a  religion  of  itself,  without  priesthood, 
or  temple,  without  creed,  or  altar,  believing  in  man, 
consulting  nature,  trusting  to  the  creative  genius  of 
human  intelligence,  a  religion  that   is  subtly  under- 
mining Christianity   in   all   established   forms  of  its 
expression.     Here   is  "  the  Religion  of  Humanity," 
counting  thousands  of  adherents  among  men  who 
have  left  Christianity  and   every  form  of   instituted 
faith.     Modern  science   leads   directly  to  religion  in 
its  disclosures  of  harmonious  law.     There  is  already 
a   religion   suggested   by  the  doctrine  of  Evolution. 
The  researches  of  Tyndall  and  Huxley,  of  Spencer 
and   Darwin  are  laying  the  ground  work  of  a  new 
system  of   faith,  full,   rich,  exuberant,  with    aspira- 
tion, worship,  brotherly  kindness   and  earnest  devo- 
tion  in  all  good  works. 


138 


THE    SECTARIAN    SPIRIT. 


Yes  it  is  coming!  It  is  coming!  It  is  already 
here.  Some  of  us  know  it ;  some  of  us  live  in  the 
atmosphere  of  it  every  day.  Hundreds,  thousands, 
enjoy  the  new  faith,  drink  in  its  spirit,  feed  on  its 
nectar  and  ambrosia,  and  are  made  pure  and  noble 
by  its  influence.  We  may  hope  that  the  time  will 
come  for  all  men,  when  the  spirit  of  jealousy,  anti- 
pathy, and  contempt  shall  be  expelled,  when  relig- 
ion shall  be  as  free  as  science  or  philosophy  or 
literature,  and  shall  take  its  true  place  as  the  sweet- 
est friend  and  mightiest  inspirer  of  man. 


THE     DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


Had  I  been  told,  six  months  ago,  that   I    should 
give  a  discourse  on  the  subject  of  *'hell,"   I   should 
have  received  the  information  with  absolute  incred- 
ulity ;  incredulity  as  deep  and  scornful  as  the  hunter 
would  feel  who  was  told  that  he  should  take  his  rifle 
and  go  forth  to  hunt  the  iguanodon,  ichthyosaurus 
or  other  extinct  monster  of  the  pre-adamite  epoch 
of  the  planet.     A  thousand  years  ago,  the  doctrine 
was  alive  and   formidable.      It   stalked  abroad,  im- 
mense in  size,  terrible  in  aspect.     Now   it   is  rarely 
seen  and  when  visible  is  but  the  shadow  of  its  for- 
mer self.     It  has  left  the  world  of  philosophy  and 
science,  of  literature  and  art,  even  in  the  wilderness 
of    theology   it   is  seldom   met  with.      Its  spectral 
image  lingers  near  the  tabernacle  where  the  revival 
preacher  endeavors  to  reproduce  a  system  of  relig- 
ion that  was  natural  in  a  departed   era,  but  is  un- 


I40 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


natural  in  the  present  age — but  there  too  it  is  alter- 
ed, sadly  changed  from  its  former  estate,  a  mere  si- 
mulacrum, a  ghost,  which  the  people  are  allowed  to 
look  at,  as  forms  are  seen  behind  gauze  curtains,  or 
as  **  materializxd  "  spirits  are  produced  under  **  me- 
diumistic  "  conditions. 

All  at  once,  this  spectre  becomes  alive,  is  seen  in 
the  midst  of  us,  terrifies  women  and  children  in  the 
public  places.  We  were  mistaken  in  supposing  the 
monster  belonged  to  the  Silurian  epoch  ;  or  to  speak 
more  exactly,  we  were  mistaken  in  thinking  that  the 
Silurian  epoch  was  sunk  beneath  so  many  layers  of 
rock.  The  Silurian  epoch  persists.  In  central  New 
York,  last  summer,  excellent  persons  were  found 
who  professed  to  believe  in  the  lake  of  fire,  and  were 
surprised  that  any  should  be  so  audacious  as  to  doubt 
it.  In  New  England  an  ecclesiastical  council  demur- 
ed  to  the  ordination  of  a  minister,  on  the  ground 
that  he  held  unorthodox  opinions  on  this  point.  In 
New  York,  an  eminent  divine  and  doctor  of  divini- 
ty, rector  of  a  wealthy  and  fashionable  church,  ex- 
pressed contempt  for  the  opinion  of  Canon  Farrar 
that  no  doctrine  of  everlasting  suffering  was  taught 
in  the  Scripture.  The  doctrine  is  evidently  not  ex- 
tinct. The  majority  of  Congregational  clergymen 
still  maintain  it,  some  in  a  qualified,  others  in  an  un- 
qualified form. 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


141 


How  can  such  a  surprising  phenomenon  as  this  be 
explained?  We  are  forced  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  the  tenet  in  question  has,  at  present,  no 
substantial  reason  for  being ;  that  people  who  do 
not  wish  to  believe  it  need  not,  may  discard  it,  or 
fet  it  alone.  Those  who  cling  to  it,  do  so  of  their 
own  free  will,  because  they  choose  to,  not  because 
authority  compels  them,  or  evidence  persuades. 
The  disbelievers  are  in  the  ascendant.  The  doubter 
is  in  excellent  company.  He  has  the  intelligence  of 
centuries  on  his  side. 

In    theology   men   of  the  highest  eminence  have 
repudiated  the  idea  as  inconsistent  with  the  concep- 
tion of  a  supreme  justice.     Origen  in  the  third  cen- 
tury declared  it  incredible,  cleared  the  scriptures  of 
it  by  resolving   its  language   into   allegory,  and  ac- 
quitted Deity  of  responsibility  for  it,   by  maintain- 
ino-  the  evanescence  of  evil  itself  and  teaching  that 
Satan  would   at   last  be   reclaimed.      In   the   ninth 
century  Scotus  Erigena,  one  of    he  master  minds  of 
the  Church,  a  man   of    genius,  an  acute  and   enter- 
prising intellect,  the  prince  of  the  scholastic  philos- 
ophy advocated  the  same   views   with   Origen,   and 
defended  them  with  unsurpassed  vigor  and  subtlety 
of  reasoning.     Others,  of  less  distinction  might,  if 
they  would,  take  courage  from  these,  especially  in 
an  age   when   no   courage   is  needed,  as  it   was  in 


142 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELI-. 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


143 


theirs.  At  present  the  courage  is  demanded  of 
those  who  maintain  the  doctrine,  not  of  those  who 
reject  it.  The  modern  theologian  is  unwilling  to 
commit  himself  to  an  opinion  that  has  against  it 
the  suffrage  of  modern  intelligence. 

Philosophy  suggested  to  theology  its  doubt.  The 
ofifice  of  philosophy  is  to  present  the  unity   of    the 
world,  to  describe  the  universe  as  a  whole,  consis- 
tent and  harmonious  in  all  its  parts;   and   in    its   at- 
tempt to  do  this,  it  inevitably  suggested  misgivings 
in  regard   to   a   doctrine   so    fatal    to   an    intelligent 
order  of  the   world   as   this.      In   the   last  century, 
Joseph  Butler,    *'the  most  patient,  original  and  can- 
did of  philosophic  theologians,"    made  a  desperate 
stand  for  the  belief    in   future   punishment,   and  de- 
fended, or  rather  apologized   for  it,   by  arguing   its 
complete  accordance  with   the  system   of    Nature, 
whose  divine  author  inflicted  unspeakable  agonies  on 
beings  to  all  appearances  innocent.     Such  reasoning 
may  well   be   called   desperate.      That    is  indeed    a 
hopeless  cause  that  can  be  maintained   only  at    the 
risk  of  atheism  itself.  To  argue  that  God  might  be  ex- 
pected to  punish  people  everlastingly  in  the  future  be- 
cause, horribly  and  causelessly,  he  torments  them  in 
the    present,   may    and   does    provoke   men    to   ask 
whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  deny  the  existence 
of  God  entirely,  or  to  give  the   name   Devil   to   the 


being  who  governs  the  world.  Had  bishop  Butler 
deliberately  gone  to  work  to  prove  that  the  world 
was  under  the  dominion  of  Satan,  he  could  not 
have  argued  more  successfully.  The  only  criticism 
one  feels  disposed  to  make  on  such  an  argument  is 
that  it  lacks  subtlety.  It  is  not  cunning  enough  to 
persuade.  It  is  barefaced.  Origen  and  Scotus  had 
no  such  audacity.  They  appealed  to  the  conception 
of  a  supreme  Being  against  what  seemed  to  them  a 
horrible  imputation  upon  him.  They  attempted  to 
relieve  him  from  the  guilt  of  inflicting //^///r^  agonies 
on  innocent  souls.  It  never  occurred  to  either  of 
them  to  defend  X.\\Q  atrocity  of  hell  by  bringing  up 
the  equally  appalling  atrocity  of  earth.  It  never 
occurred  to  them  to  give  people  their  choice  between 
atheism  and  diabolism. 

The  method  of  Butler  has  been  repudiated  by  the 
more  rational  philosophy  of  a  later  day.  There  are 
now  three  alternatives  presented  to  the  philosophi- 
cal mind.  It  may  either  accept  the  ancient  theory 
of  Dualism  which  allots  the  universe  to  two  oppos- 
ing powers,  one  good  and  one  evil, — the  evil  power 
holding  sway  over  the  realm  of  anguish,  whether 
temporal  or  eternal, — on  which  supposition,  pain, 
death,  hell  are  transferred  from  the  dominion  of 
Deity  to  the  domain  of  Satan;  or,  maintaining 
the  theory  of    Monism,  which   acknowledges  but  a 


144 


THE  DOGMA  OF  HKLL. 


THE  DOGMA  OF  HELL. 


M5 


single  intelligent  ruler  of  the  universe,  it  may  deny 
the  existence  of  one  spirit  or  the  other,  declaring  for 
cpiiniisDi  with  Leibnitz,  and  with  him  sustaining  the 
opinion  that  good  is  the  substantial  principle,  and 
evil  the  appearance,  the  apparition,  the  evanescent 
shadow,  or  for  pcssiviism  with  Schopenhauer  who 
contended  that  evil  was  the  substantial  principle 
and  that  good  is  the  illusive  semblance.  Or  again, 
as  a  third  alternative,  declining  to  answer  dogmatic- 
ally the  question  of  the  world's  original  authorship 
and  essential  control,  it  may  hold  to  some  form  of 
the  develoi)ment  theory,  which  describes  the  uni- 
verse as  unfolding  gradually  from  organic  germs, 
and  as  moving  onward  with  or  without  the  guidance 
of  an  intelligent  being.  Either  of  these  supposit- 
ions variously  tempered  and  modified,  the  philoso- 
pher of  our  day  may  accept ;  but  the  supposition  of 
an  everlasting  hell  for  human  beings  is  not  admissi- 
ble. That  idea  the  philosophic  mind  discards,  and 
they  who  seek  the  companionship  of  such  minds 
must  abandon  it. 

Of  the  belief  in  "  hell  "  science  knows  nothing. 
As  knowledge  extends,  the  dominion  of  pure  evil 
shrinks.  Satan  retreats  from  one  department  of 
Nature  after  another  and  leaves  the  high-ways  and 
by-ways  of  creation  free  to  the  passage  of  serene, 
inexorable  and  regenerating  law.     Science  discards 


f 


the  conception  of  the  Devil,  and  the  dogma  of  per- 
dition. The  scientific  men  who  entertain  these 
forms  of  opinion  do  so,  not  as  men  of  science,  but 
as  members  of  the  church,  whose  doctrines  they  do 
not  presume  to  call  in  question. 

The  doctrine  of  future  punishment  as  held  by  the 
creeds  of  Christendom,  has  always  been  rejected 
with  abhorrence  by  the  natural  conscience  of  men, 
as  fundamentally  inconsistent  w^ith  rational  notions 
of  justice.  That  men,  even  the  worst  men,  could 
in  their  short  life-time  commit  offences  deserving 
everlasting  punishment,  the  agonies  of  hell  fire,  for 
an  eternity,  or  even  for  a  hundred  years,  nay,  for  a 
single  year,  for  a  single  day,  is  an  idea  that  shocks 
every  sentiment  of  equity.  That  the  Being  who  is 
supremely,  ideally,  absolutely  just,  can  inflict  penal- 
ties for  misdoing,  such  as  no  human  being  would 
lay  on  another,  such  as  the  most  infernal  cruelty 
never,  even  when  maddened  to  insanity,  de- 
vised, is  a  suggestion  at  which  the  natural  conscience 
stands,  always  did  stand  and  always  must  stand 
aghast.  They  who  believed  it  when  they  could  not 
help  themselves,  when  church  authority  cowed  their 
will,  and  silenced  their  protest,  made  this  moral  res- 
ervation. The  voice  of  conscience  was  hushed.  The 
moral  sense  was  forbidden  to  assert  itself. 

That  the  human  heart  resents,  repels  with  detes- 


146 


THE  DOGMA  OF  HELL. 


THE  DOGMA  OF  HELL. 


147 


tation  the  belief  in  future  punishment,  need  not  be 
said.  Of  course  it  does.  Of  course  it  always  did. 
What  pagan,  what  creature  above  the  savage,  ever 
cordially  entertained  the  belief  that  one  whom  he 
loved,  was  howling  in  hell  for  deeds  done  in  the 
body,  for  sentiments  entertained,  or  for  dispositions 
illustrated  on  earth  ?  It  is  easy  enough  to  profess 
doctrines  in  which  one  has  no  interest,  with  w^hich 
one  associates  no  feeling;  but  when  feeling  becomes 
enlisted,  as,  sooner  or  later  it  becomes,  in  a  doctrine 
like  this,  the  reaction  against  it  is  instantaneous  and 
violent.  There  was  a  time  when  the  heart  dared 
not  express  its  feeling.  That  time  is  past ;  now 
heartlessness  is  condemned.  The  voice  of  the  heart 
is  loud  and  imperative  ;  it  requires  courage  to  resist 
it. 

There  remains  the  word  of  Scripture.  Does  this 
compel  those  who  accept  its  authority,  to  receive 
the  doctrine  of  future  punishment  against  the  pro- 
test of  the  heart,  the  remonstrance  of  the  conscience, 
the  reasoning  of  philosophy,  the  theologian's  de- 
mur? This  is  a  question  which  lack  of  space  forbids 
my  answering  in  full  or  arguing  at  length.  To  me, 
with  whom  the  word  of  Scripture  has  no  more  au- 
thority than  reason  concedes  to  it,  the  discussion  is 
without  interest.  At  present,  it  satisfies  my  pur- 
pose to  say  that,  in  my  honest  and  sober  judgment, 


'^■^ 


the  language  of  Scripture  does  not  warrant  the 
christian  doctrine.  If  it  did,  my  opinion  of  the 
doctrine  would  be  what  it  is.  But  honestly  I  think 
that  it  does  not.  At  least,  the  essential  thought,  the 
true  meaning  of  Scripture  does  not.  More  than 
this,  I  am  not  prepared  to  allow.  The  Universalists 
have  not,  in  my  judgment,  fairly  made  out  their  case 
from  the  Bible.  From  the  Old  Testament  they  can 
easily,  for  to  the  Hebrew  mind  the  doctrine  is  re- 
pugnant. But  the  New  Testament  contains  expres- 
sions that  have  never  been  purged  from  the  taint  of 
the  hideous  thought.  Language  is  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Jesus  that  conveys  to  the  imagination  the 
most  horrible  forebodings  of  doom.  ''  Depart,  ye 
cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil 
and  his  angels."     It  is  hard  for  the  grammarian   to 

get  over  that. 

Universalism  has  however,  done  this  much  ;  it  has 
cast  a  grave  doubt  on  the  supposed  teachings  of  Scrip- 
ture  in  this  matter.  It  has  made  it  possible  to  doubt 
whether  the  Bible  is  chargeable  with  the  belief  in 
question.  It  has  even  made  it  easy  for  people  who  be- 
lieve in  the  inspired  authority  of  Scripture  and  who 
are  distressed  because  it  teaches  this  disheartening 
docrma,  to  retain  their  faith  in  the  Bible  and  at  the 
same  time  to  indulge  the  sentiments  which  are  native 
to  their  hearts.     This  is  much.     Is  it  not  as  much  as 


148  THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 

is  demanded?  Is  it  not,  practically,  everything? 
None  need  entertain  the  dogma  on  the  authority  of 
the  Bible,  who  do  not  choose  to.  The  doubter 
has  a  valid  excuse. 

How  then,  to  return  to  my  original  question,  how 
then  can  the  revival  of  this  monstrous  doctrine  be 
explained?  Since  there  are  good  reasons  for  discard 
ino-  it,  since  the  reasons  that  once  supported  it  are 
weakened  if  not  wholly  disposed  of,  since  to  reject 
it  is  to  be  in  the  company  of  the  best  in  repute, 
since  even  Scripture  permits  merciful  interpretations, 
why  is  not  the  doctrine  suffered  to  go  unrestrained 
to  its  final  account  ?    The  reply  to  the  inquiry  is 

close  at  hand. 

The  doctrine  is  necessary  to  the  integrity  of  the 
christian  scheme ;  so  necessary  that  its  rejection 
would  bring  the  whole  structure  down.  The  chris- 
tian scheme  is  a  complete,  logical  system,  compactly 
fitted  together.  Its  parts  all  cohere.  The  dislodge- 
ment  of  one  point  endangers  the  security  of  the 
structure.  To  deny  the  Trinity  is  to  deny  the  deity 
of  the  Christ.  To  deny  the  deity  of  the  Christ  is 
to  deny  the  sufficiency  of  his  atonement.  To  deny 
the  atonement  is  to  deny  the  desperate  need  of  man. 
To  deny  this,  is  to  deny  human  depravity,  is  to  deny 
the  necessity  of  Grace,  is  to  vacate  the  offices  of 
the  Church,  and  reduce  to  nothing   the   significance 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


149 


of  Christendom.  The  dogma  of  future  punishment 
is  essential  to  all  the  rest.  It  follows  logically  from 
the  dogmas  of  Depravity  and  Redemption.  There 
must  be  a  doom  in  reserve  for  the  unconverted. 
There  must  be  a  place  for  the  unregenerate.  They 
are  by  nature  depraved,  heirs  of  death,  children  of 
wrath  ;  and  their  place  must  be  the  lowest  and  sad- 
dest conceivable.  Their  doom  might  be  simply 
death,  utter  death,  annihilation.  But  this  doom 
would  be  rather  negative  than  positive.  Death  might 
be  welcome.  Annihilation  might  be  a  boon.  There 
must  be  something  more  appalling  to  the  vulgar 
imagination  than  that.  With  the  idea  of  death 
must  be  coupled  the  idea  of  agony.  Hence,  as  life 
meant  felicity,  death  meant  anguish.  Hell  was  off- 
set against  Heaven.  The  two  were  required  to  com- 
plete the  series  of  conceptions  w^iich  constituted  the 
"•  Plan  of  Redemption."  The  distruction  of  hell 
would  deprive  the  system  of  its  motive  power.  The 
good  woman  of  Alexandria  who  went  about  with 
her  bucket  of  water  in  one  hand  and  her  torch  in 
the  other — the  water  to  extinguish  hell,  the  torch  to 
burn  up  heaven — was  set  down  as  a  maniac.  Had 
she  succeeded,  Christianity  would  have  seen  its  last 
day.  For  the  fires  of  perdition  were  as  indispensi- 
ble  to  the  religion  as  was  the  divine  love  she  wished 
to  exalt. 


ISO 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HKLL. 


Thus  the  tenacity  of  Christians  to  their  dogma  is 
accounted  for.    They  may  keep  it  in  the  background  ; 
they  may  conceal  it  beneath  figures  of  speech  ;  they 
may  say'little  or  nothing  about  it;    they   may  even 
permit  their  neighbors  to  forget  it.      The  revivalist 
preacher  may  speak  of  it  with  extreme  reserve  and 
reluctance,  urging  the  persuasions   of    love  instead 
of  the  former  exasperations  of  fear.      Still  the  doc- 
trine is  there,  in  its  place,  and  when  touched  by  the 
hand  of  criticism,  it  displays  its  vitality.  They  avow 
it  who  dare  not   disavow.      They  assent  who  dare 
not   deny.      Did  the   tenet  stand  by   itself,   alone, 
apart  from  the  general  scheme,  there  can  scarcely  be 
a'doubt  of  its  all  but  universal  rejection.     As  it  is, 
it  is  retained  as  a  corner   stone   which    the  builders 
see  no  way  to  reject. 

The  strength,  the  bulwark  of  this  doctrine  has  ever 
been  the  ecclesiastical  spirit,  the  spirit  of  assumption 
and  mental  oppression.     It  grew  up  with  the  priest- 
hood ;    and    with    the    priesthood   it   prevailed,  and 
with    the    power   of     the    priesthood    it    declined. 
It    never    had    much   influence  by    reason     of    the 
moral  consciousness  of  men.      It    is    a    remarkable 
fact    that     people    have    for    the    most  part    been 
consigned    to    hell    for    offences    against    ecclesias- 
tical mle.     The  inhabitants  of  hell  have  been  chiefly 
heretics   sent  there  for  the  guilt  of  unbelief ;    skep- 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


15^ 


tics  who   looked   too   deeply    into  the   mysteries  of 
dogma,    infidels   who    abandoned   the  traditions  of 
faith.     A  Parsee  writing,  it  is  said,  describes  a  woman 
in  hell,  ''  beaten  with  stone   clubs  by   two    demons 
twelve  miles  high,  and  compelled  to  eat   a   basin   of 
offal  because  some   of  her  hair,  as  she  ccmbed  it,  fell 
into  the  sacred  fire."     A  Brahmanic  text,  says  Alger, 
tells   of    a    man    who    for    ''  neglecting  to  meditate 
on  the  mystic  monosyllable  CM,  before  praying,  was 
throw^n  down  on  an  iron  floor  in  hell,  and  cloven  with 
an  ax,  then  stirred  in  a  caldron  of    molten   lead  till 
covered  all  over  with   foam   sweat,    like   a   grain   of 
rice  in  an  oven,  and  then  fastened  wath  head  down- 
wards and  feet   upwards  to  a   chariot   of    fire,   and 
un^ed  onward  wdth   a  red  hot   goad."      A   general 
council  of  the  Church  condemned  Origen  for  teach- 
ino-  that  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment  in  hell 
did  not  comport  with  the  idea  of  the  infinite  good- 
ness of    God.      An   English  cardinal,  early  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  wrote  a  book  on   the  question  : 
Is  Origen  saved  or  damned  ?    In  Bayles'  Dictionary 
is  related  the  vision  of  a  hermit  who  saw  hell  uncov- 
ered, and  in  the  midst  of  it,  Origen  in  the  company 
of  the  damned,  covered  with  flames  and  confusion.* 
The  pains  of  hell  were  reserved  for  offenders  against 
the  Church,  not  for  offenders  against  humanity.  The 

*  See  Delapierre's  "Enfer,"  p.   33.  "Ote. 


152 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


hell  of  the  Romanist  is  full  of  Protestants.  The 
hellof  the  Protestant  is  full  of  schismatics.  Where 
theolo^^ncal  hatred  does  not  exist,  there  is  no  hell, 
for  there  are  none  to  put  into  it  except  murderers, 
thieves  and  liars,  and  none  of  these  deserve  its 
frightful  tortures.  In  the  priests'  eyes  unbelief  is 
the  soul  of  guilt.  So  will  it  be,  so  long  as  churches 
claim  special  revelations  of  truth,  so  long  as  certain 
texts  are  revered  as  the  word  of  God,  so  long  as  ec- 
clesiastical institutions  and  rites  are  held  to  be  sa- 
cred above  human  sanctities,  so  long  as  orders  of 
men  called  religious  assume  the  right  to  dictate 
thought  and  conduct  to  mankind.  % 

It  is  vulgarly  thought  that  the  belief  in  future 
punishment  is  important  as  a  check  on  the  inordi- 
nate passions  of  men  :  that  it  is  valuable  in  keeping 
society  in  order,  men  being  more  readily  swayed  by 
fear  than  by  any  other  motive.  This  impression  is, 
I  am  persuaded,  quite  mistaken.  It  is  not  probably 
true  that  men  are  more  powerfully  affected  by  fear 
than  by  love.  The  experiment  has  never  been  tried. 
The  assumption  that  fear  is  the  only  influence  to 
which  human  beings  respond  has  been  acted  on  from 
time  immemorial  and  has  begotten  an  absolute  skep- 
ticism in  regard  to  the  efficacy  of  any  other  senti- 
ment. That  men  should  be  influenced  for  good  by 
fear  seems  to  be  something  like  an  absurdity.    Fear 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


153 


can  do  no  more  for  a  moral  nature,  than  darkness 
can  do  for  a  plant,  or  lightning  for  a  tree.  Sunshine 
alone  quickens.  Love  alone  warms.  Violence  may 
stimulate,  but  how  can  it  nourish  ?  Fear  may  create 
fear;  can  it  create  trust?  Vitality  is  coincident  with 
passionate  desire,  but  fear  produces  apathy  and  re- 
pulsion. The  substitution  of  rewards  for  penalties 
would  probably  be  followed  by  a  moral  impulse  to- 
wards goodness  such  as  Christendom  never  exper- 
ienced. 

I  heard,  a  short  time  since,  the  touching  story  of 
a  drunkard.  He  had  dragged  himself  and  his  wife 
down  from  a  respectable  position  into  the  deepest 
pit  of  poverty  and  degradation.  He  was  a  beggar 
and  a  brute,  and  she  was  a  wretched,  sick,  crushed 
creature,  to  whom  existence  was  a  burden.  Re- 
proaches had  been  rained  upon  his  head  for  years  ; 
society  had  cast  him  into  its  outer  darkness  shut  its 
door  upon  him.  The  friend  who  told  me  the  story 
found  these  people  in  a  garret,  and  by  the  aid  of 
some  neighbors  separated  the  husband  from  the 
wife.  She,  after  a  time,  recovered  herself  sufficient- 
ly to  do  a  little  plain  sewing ;  and  when  she  had 
earned  her  first  shilling,  she  placed  half  of  it,  six- 
pence, in  her  benefactors  hand  saying,  ''  When  you 
see  my  husband,  give  him  this,  with  my  love."  He 
did  so.     The  wretched  man  took  it,  gazed  at  it,  and 


154 


THE    DOCiMA    OF     HKLL. 


broke  into  a  sob  of  agony.  '^  O  God  !  I  could  bear 
threats,  hunger  and  curses,  but  I  cannot  bear  this. 
That  sixpence  breaks  my  heart!"  Is  a  woman's 
love  so  powerful,  and  can  the  Supreme  love  be  im- 
potent ? 

But  let  this  peiss.     It  is  enough  for  the  present  to 
know  that  the  doctrine  of  future  punishment  has  not 
been,  to  any  considerable  degree,    employed   as  an 
agent  in  moral  reformation.     It  has  been  used  as  an 
engine   for   the   suppression   of    heresy.      The   free 
preachers  who  preceded   Luther,  did   their  best   to 
galvanize  sinners  into  good  behavior  by  describing 
the  terrors  of  hell.     Very  frightful  their  descriptions 
were  ;  so  grotesque  and  fantastical    in   their  horror 
as  to  betray  their  weakness.     None  but  the  stupid- 
est, the  most  credulous,  the  most  animal  could  have 
been  affected  by  threatenings  so  ludicrously  violent. 
The  preachers,  one  would    say,    felt    the    impotence 
of  their  method,  and  not  being  wise  enough  to  change 
it  for  a  better,  heaped  up  the  agony  till  it  was  amus- 
ing.    It  would  be  safe  to  say  that  the  certainty  of  a 
good  whipping  to  be  inflicted   immediately  on  the 
perpetration  of  the  offence,  would  exert  a  more  salu- 
tary effect  on  conduct  than  the  most  lurid   prospect 
of  imaginary  flames. 

The  truth  is  that  the  threat  of    Hell  even   in  its 
most  mitigated  form  is  so  vastly   in   excess  of    any 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


55 


consciousness  of  guilt  as  to  be  practically  inoperative. 
The  flames  might  as  well  be  painted,  for  any  terror 
they  carry.  It  is  impossible  to  bring  such  fantasies 
home  to  the  practical  sense.  They  who  have  im- 
agination to  realize  them  are  disgusted.  They  who 
have  not  are  confounded  and  stunned.  Instead  of 
apprehending  a  decline  of  morality  from  the  popu- 
lar disbelief  in  the  doctrine  of  hell  torments,  it 
will  be  more  reasonable  to  apprehend  such  decline 
from  its  continued  profession,  and  the  more  sincere 
the  profession,  the  graver  the  cause  for  apprehen- 
sion. Whatever  effect  Christianity  may  have  had 
in  softening  the  habits  and  sweetening  the  dispo- 
sitions of  men — and  by  all  admission  it  has  exerted 
a  great  deal — it  has  produced  by  its  graciousness,  in 
spite  of  this  hideous  doctrine.  The  benignant  char- 
acter of  Jesus,  the  human  teachings  of  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  the  lovely  lessons  of  parables  like  the 
Good  Samaritan  and  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  touching 
suggestions  of  the  Supper  the  Garden  and  the 
Cross,  the  affecting  mythology  of  the  Atonement, 
with  its  background  of  the  Eternal  Love  and  its  ex- 
pression of  self-sacrificing  devotion  on  the  part  of 
the  purest  and  gentlest  of  the  sons  of  men,  all  these 
combined  were  perpetually  dropping  refreshing  dew 
on  the  waste  places  of  the  human  heart  and  warm- 
ing into  life  the  seeds  of  kindness  and  purity.     For 


156 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


one  nature,  hard  and  brutal  that  the  terrors  of    the 
hereafter  may  have  restrau.ed.  it  has  probably  dead- 
ened,  discouraged  or  brutalized  a  hundred  sens.t.ve 
spirits  that  needed  only  a  ray  of  hope  to  bloom   in 
beauty  and  shed  a  delicious  fragrance  on  the  a,r     If 
all  were  known,  as  all  never  can  be,  it  would   proba 
bly  appear  that  the  doctrine  of    future  pumshment 
has  demoralized  and  dehumanized  the  ages  m  wh.ch 
it  prevailed,  and  has  seriously  retarded  the  progress 
of  virtue  by  hindering  the  natural   play   of    motive 
and  preventing  the  standard  of    moral   attainment 
If  all  were  known   it   would  probably  appear  that 
the  doctrine  reflected  the   inhumanity  of    inhuman 
eenerations,  and  deepened  it. 

In   measuring   the  moral   influence   of   this  dog- 
ma,  due  weight  must  be  allowed  to  a  consideration 
which  Mr.  Lecky  makes  prominent  in  h,s  history  of 
Rationalism  in  Europe.     He  dwells  at  length  on  the 
disastrous  effect   it  exerted  on   the  moral  disposi- 
tions of  churchmen,  making  them  callous  and  cruel. 
He  traces  the  connection  between  the  horrible  pic- 
tures of  torment  which  they  hung  up  and   contem- 
plated, which  artists  painted  on  walls  and  ceilings, 
which  preachers  colored  with  their  ferocious  rhetor- 
ic, which  priests  presented  at  the   confessional,  and 
„,ystics  agonized  over  in  their  cell,  and  the  frightful 
torments  that  were  inflicted  on  heretics.      The  in- 


THE    DOG^•A    OF    HEI.I. 


157 


struments  of  torture  used   in   the   middle  ages,  the 
wheels,  rack,  screws,  pincers,  were  but  material  copies 
of  the  instruments  which  the  fiends  were  believed 
to  employ  upon  the  damned  in  hell ;    and  the  cold- 
blooded  ferocity  with  which  the  horrid  enginery  was 
plied,  nay,  the  satanic  glee  of    the   auto  da  fe,  was 
but  such  imitation  as  human  creatures  could  make 
of  the  devils  who  executed  on  the   cursed  the  man- 
dates of  the  divine  wrath.     "  If,"  says  Lecky,  "  you 
make  the  detailed  and  exquisite  torments  of  multi- 
tudes  the  habitual  object  of  the  thoughts  and  imag- 
inations of    men,  you   will   necessarily  produce  in 
most  of  them  a  gradual  indifference  to  human   suf- 
fering and  in  some  of  them  a  disposition  to  regard 
it  widi  positive  delight.     If  you  further  assure  men 
that  these  sufferings  form  an  integral  part  of  a  rev- 
elation which  they  are  bound  to  regard  as  a  message 
of  good  tidings,  you  will  induce  them  to  stifle  every 
feeling  of  pity,  and  almost  to  encourage  their  insen- 
sibility as  a  virtue.     If  you  end  your  teachings  by 
telling  them  that  the  Being  who  is  the  ideal  of  their 
lives  confines  His  affections  to  the  members  of   a 
single  church,  that  he  will  torture  forever  all  who 
are  not  found  within  its  pale,  and  that  His  children 
will  forever  contemplate  those  tortures  in  a  state  of 
unalloyed  felicity,  you  will  prepare  the  way  for  every 
form   of  persecution  that  can  be  directed  against 
those  who  are  without." 


158 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


The  bloody  days  are  over.  The  instruments  of 
torture  are  exhibited  as  curiosities  in  the  castle  dun- 
geons of  Europe.  May  we  not  hope,  may  we  not 
reasonably  expect  that  their  diabolical  counterparts 
will  also  be  remanded  to  the  mythological  curiosity 
shop,  to  be  marvelled  at  as  the  insane  contrivances 
of  a  diseased  fancy?  Is  it  not  melancholy,  nay  lu- 
dicrous to  think,  that  men  who  cry  over  an  attack  of 
rheumatism,  who  will  not  permit  a  woman  to  be  in- 
jured, who  remonstrate  against  the  execution  of  a 
criminal,  who  raise  an  outcry  against  the  practice  of 
vivisection  whereby  surgeons  make  studies  in  anato- 
my by  cutting  up  frogs  and  cats,  are  standing  out  vig- 
orously for  adoctrine  that  condemns  millions  of  their 
fellow  creatures  to  agonies  unspeakable  and  endless, 
and  are  defending  the  opinion  in  the  name  of  the 
Supreme  Goodness?  Could  there  be  a  better  illus- 
tration of  the  ease  with  which  people  allow  them- 
selves to  use  words  without  meaning?  Could  there 
be  a  better  proof  of  hoUowness  and  insincerity  ? 
Could  there  be  a  sharper  admonition  to  the  duty  of 
making  beliefs  correspond  with  feelings,  and  of  sub- 
stituting for  the  gaudy  card  houses  of  rhetoric,  the 
solid  mansions  of  conviction  ?  To  talk  about  eternal 
torment  is  not  difficult ;  to  profess  belief  in  it  may 
be  possible  even  for  good  natured  people,  but  to 
tJiink  it,  to  bring  it  home  to  reason  or  heart,   is  what 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL 


159 


the  stoutest  cannot  do.  It  may  be  questioned 
whether  a  single  man,  even  a  single  priest,  preacher 
or  churchman,  ever  fully  ''  realized  "  the  import  of 
the  doctrine.  We  know  the  names  of  sinirle  men 
whom  the  far  off  contemplation  of  it  drove  to  the 
madhouse.  Nothing  but  dense  ignorance,  credulity, 
mental  and  moral  apathy,  wrapping  human  sensibil- 
ity about  as  with  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros,  enabled 
them  to  bear  the  suggestion  of  it,  and  still  go  on 
their  way  believing,  hoping  and  rejoicing.  In  pro- 
portion as  men  become  intelligent,  conscientious  and 
sensitive,  they  throw  the  incubus  off,  though,  with 
it,  they  cast  over  creed,  church,  scripture,  and  all 
the  associations  of  religion.  For  Reason  is  worth 
more  than  all. 

That  the  doctrine  of  endless  punishment  will  be 
fully,  frankly,  in  every  form  discarded,  while  the  pop- 
ular religion — Christianity — survives,  cannot  be  ex- 
pected. For,  as  has  been  declared,  the  article  is  an 
essential  part  of  that  religion,  and  will  be  maintain- 
ed, literally  and  figuratively,  by  those  who  are  in- 
terested in  keeping  the  system  alive.  But  that  it  is 
vanishing  away  before  the  brighter  intelligence  and 
the  better  heart  of  the  modern  world,  is  very  cer- 
tain ;  and  equally  certain  is  it  that  into  the  shadow  of 
oblivion  will  go  the  kindred  tenets  with  which  it  is 
associated. 


i6o 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


u    however    that   the   mtelhgent 
Tt   is  not  enough,   however, 

I     Ar\   reiect  the  doctrine  of 
•   A.  .^f  '1  new  aire   should   rejeci   m^ 
minds  ot   a  new   <x^^  .  ^-   „  r"V,,irrh 

•  t        ..f    nc;  held  bv  the  Christian  Churcli. 
future  punishment,  as  neia  u>  u 

future  p  ,    V  .^   of    associating  any 

Thev  must  abandon   the   uaoii   u  .  .         r 

^  •  /         /  with  the  divine  administration  of 

\c\ea.  of  punishment  with  tne  aiviu 
,  .  .      Not  the  physical  conception  merely, 

the  universe.     iNottueyA^  v^ith 

but  the  ;«.r./  conception  must  be  discarded.  >.e,th- 
er  in  the  life  after  death,  nor  in  the  life  before  death 

the  thought  of    punishment,  of    retr.but.on,   o 
is  iiie    Li       fe  .      J       Tt   ic   the   custom   ot 

vengeance  to  be  entertamed.     It  •«  the  c 

the ''  liberal  "  sects,  so  called,  to  sp.ntnalr.e  as  hey 

/^f    the    divine    wratn. 
term    it,    the   consequences   of    the   dm 

They  transfer  the  pains  from  the  body  to  the  soul 
^  .  oo   1-Vip   ao-ent     n    executing 

and  imagine  consacncc  ..  the  a.cnt 

the  ™cn<.inB  decree.    They  too,  paint  P«urcs 

::,„:n.\.  the  dantned  .hid,    .he,  boas      ate 
„ote  intid  and  a.,n,  e.en  than   '^^J^^ 

the  calvinistic  theology.     They  acscno  .\ 

of  the  awaKened  conscience,  as  Spurgeon  m>ght  d  - 
.cribe  the  agonies  of  the  resurrecte     frame       It 
only  another  form  of  the  old  m.quity.     It   is  but 

Inuation  of  the  evil  habit  they  so  bitter  yco- 
demn   in   their   fellow   believers.      The.r   doctrme, 

hou  h  less  disgusting  and  revolting,  is  hardly  more 
rational  than  the  ancient  dogma,  which  they  repu- 

''xhe  only  rational  alternative  is,   the  omission   of 


THE    DOGMA    OF    HELL. 


i6i 


the  word  ''  punishment,"  from  the  vocabulary  of  re- 
Hgion.  Speak  of  actions  and  their  consequences; 
of  conduct  and  its  issues;  of.  character  and  its  laws  ; 
speak  of  moral  cause  and  effect,  and  trace  the  con- 
nection between  deeds  and  destinies,  a  vital,  organic 
connection  that  cannot  be  broken  or  interrupted ; 
but  let  the  thought  of  retaliation  be  dropped.  Then 
will  life  be  ordered  on  rational  principles ;  then  will 
hopes  and  fears  be  reasonable  ;  and  then  will  our 
conceptions  of  providence  and  deity  be  worthy  of 
intelligent  beings. 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


I  have  something  to  say  this  morning  on  the  prac- 
tical value  of  the  higher  sentiments.     The  word  sen- 
timent is  of  vague  significance.     I  use  it  in  the  best 
accepted  meaning,  as  expressing  the  loftier  feelings 
of  the  mind.     A  sentiment  is  not  a  dogma,  a  doc- 
trine, a  thought.     Neither   is  it  a  mere   feeling  or 
emotion.     It  is  rather  a  mixture  of    the  two.      We 
may  call   it   a  thought  saturated  with  feeling,  or  a 
feeling  based  upon  thought.     The  two  elements,  an 
element  of  intellect  and  an  element  of  feeling  com- 
bine in  a  sentiment.     Thus  we  call  adoration  a  sen- 
timent ;  the  sense   of    the  sublime   is   a    sentiment. 
Analyse  any  of  these  qualities  and  you   find  at  the 
bottom  a  basis  of  opinion ;    but   what   makes  them 
especially  beautiful,  charming,  fascinating  in  their 
moral  influence,  is  the  aroma  of  feeling  which  is  asso- 
ciated with  them.     The  sentiments  hold   the  same 


164 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


place  in  the  conduct  of  life  that  flowers  and  pictures 
do.     Flowers  are  the  fragrance  of   nature.      They 
express  the  genius  of  the  material  world— the  fleet- 
ing enchanting  bloom  on  the  face  of    things.      The 
value  of  a  picture  does  not  consist  in  the  texture  of 
the  canvas,  or  the  character  of  the   pigment,  in  the 
time  it  takes  to  paint  it,  or  the  character  of  its  sub- 
ject, but  in  the   delicate   communication   of    genius 
which  the   artist   out   of    his   own     fulness    imparts 
to  those   cheap  commodities.      The   power  of    the 
statue  does  not  lie  in  the  material  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed, whether  it  be  marble,   granite,  or  alabaster  ; 
but  in  the  fine  element   of    creative  art  which  the 
sculptor  and  the  sculptor  alone  is  able  to  impart  to 
whatever   material   he    may   see    fit   to    use.      The 
higher  feelings,  the   higher  sentiments,   do   for  our 
practical  life  exactly  what  these  lovely  creations  do 
for  the  education  of  taste. 

Of  late  years,  it  has  been  customary  for  the  chem- 
ist  to  take  things  to  pieces,  to  resolve  them,  as  we 
say,  ^'  into  their  elements,"  to  see  what  they  are  made 
of.  The  chemist  will  take  a  flower,  and  show  it  to 
you  as  a  combination  of  gases,  a  whiff  of  vapor. 
The  same  analyst  will  take  a  work  of  art,  and  reduce 
it  to  a  few  common  pigments.  In  the  same  way, 
moral  chemistry  has  been  at  work  pulling  to  pieces 
the  moral  sentiments  and  showing  them  to  be  com- 


i 


: 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


165 


posed  of  very  cheap,  vulgar  and   even    disreputable 
stuff.     For  instance,  Mr.  Henry  Thomas  Buckle   re- 
solves the  sentiment  of  reverence  into   wonder  and 
fear.     We  wonder,  he   says,   because  we  are   ignor- 
ant ;     we  fear  because  we  are  weak  ;    as  we  outgrow 
ignorance  and  fear,  we  outgrow  veneration.     In  wild 
and   savage  times  the  ignorance  was  dense,  and  the 
weakness  all  but  universal;  one  man  or  a  half  dozen 
men  had  all  the  knowledge  there  was  ;  a  single   per- 
son held  all  the  power  ;  the  sceptre   was   carried   in 
an     individual's    hand;      the     crown    was    placed 
upon  a  king's  head.      Then    reverence   was   at    its 
height.     The  priest  taking  advantage  of  his  author- 
ity,  kept  men  down  in   abject  spiritual  submission. 
The  king,  potentate,  emperor,  prince,  taking  advan- 
tage  of  his  superior  rank,  kept  men  down  in   abject 
servility.     As  knowledge   extends,  as  men  become 
masters  of  their  circumstances,  priest  and  potentate 
disappear :  the  ministries  of   awe  become  obsolete. 
Reverence,  therefore,  having  no  end   to  serve,   de- 
clines. 

Submit  any  other  sentiment  to  the  same  process, 
the  sentiment  of  thankfulness,  for  example.  Grati- 
tude in  the  last  analysis,  may  be  resolved  into  a 
species  of  fine  self-complacency.  We  are  thankful 
for  what  -we  especially  have  received  ;  for  some  sig- 
nal favor  bestowed  upon  us,  and  upon  no   one  else ; 


1 66 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


because  we  are  picked  out  from  the  rest,  are  select- 
ed, set  apart   for   the   bestowment  of    some   special 
gift.      The  thankful   are  the  glad,   the  happy,   the 
well-conditioned  in  some  way  ;  and  they  are  thank- 
ful just  in  proportion  as  they  feel  they  are  well-con- 
ditioned, while  others  are  less  favored.     The  feeling 
of  gratitude  is  thus  associated  with   the  quality   of 
self  esteem,  and  is  compatible  even   with   essential 
inhumanity.     As  we  survey  the  world   impartially, 
and  discover  that  the  great  giver  of  gifts  whom   we 
worshipped,  bestows  what  are   no   favors   at  all  but 
disfavors ;    that    pain    accompanies   pleasure  ;    that 
sorrow  keeps  pace  with  joy  ;  that  blight  and  bloom 
are    inseparable   as  light   and  shadow;    that   disap- 
pointment  balances   satisfaction  ;    that  the   wildest 
despairs  are  scattered  broadcast  over  the  face  of  so- 
ciety, the  sentiment  of  thanksgiving  begins  to  de- 
cline.    We  even  doubt  whether  there  be  any  unmix- 
ed good  to  be  thankful  for,  or  any  being  to  whom 
we  should  give  thanks  for  anything.     When,  further- 
more, reflection  reveals  the  fact   that   the  discipline 
of  life   does   not   discipline,   that    sorrow   does   not 
soften,  that  care  does  not  educate,  that  disappoint- 
ment does  not  train,  chasten,  sober  or  build  up  men 
in  spiritual  graces— in   other   words,  that    the    very 
conditions  of  turning  to  best   advantage  either  the 
goods  or  the  evils  of    life  are   withheld,   that   vigor. 


) 


THE     HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


167 


capacity,  intelligence,  energy,  buoyancy  of  tempera- 
ment are  not  supplied  at  need,  the  sentiment  of 
thanksgiving  declines  more  and  more  until,  at  last, 
it  gives  out  altogether  ;  and,  in  place  of  gratitudi 
we  have  but  the  grim  determination  to  do  our  best 
for  ourselves,  to  fight  our  way  through  the  world  as 
well  as  we  can,  and  to  ask  no  favors  of  anybody. 

Apply  the  same  method  of  analysis  to  the  senti- 
ment of  loyalty  which  has  played  so  large,  heroic  and 
beautiful  a  part    in  the   education   and   progress  of 
mankind.     Loyalty  !  it  is  the  soldier's  fidelity  to'his 
flag;  it  is  the  patriot's  fidelity  to  his  country  ;    it  is 
the  yeoman's  fidelity  to  his  prince  ;  it  is  the  noble's 
fidelity  to  his  king  or  queen.     It  betrays,  therefore, 
a  caste  spirit.     Loyalty  !  It  is  the   sentiment  of    L 
delity  that  one  has  to  some  superior  who   grants  fa. 
vors— a  narrow,  exclusive   thing,   therefore,  closely 
associated  with  pride,  egotism  and  self-conceit,  nay, 
to  a  certain  extent,  with  servility.     For  why  is  the 
noble  loyal    to    his   king   except    that    he   expects 
honor?  Why  is  the  soldier  loyal  to  the   flag  except 
that  he  hopes  for  promotion  }    Why  is  the  patriot 
loyal  to  his  country  except  that  he  identifies  his  own 
prosperity,    happiness,   dignity,  with   his  country's 
renown  ?    Loyalty,   therefore,   may  be  resolved   by 
this  remorseless  process  into  a  very  peculiar  and 
subtle  kind  of  self-content  which  does  not  ennoble, 


i68 


THF    HIGHER     SENTIMENTS. 


or  dignify.  As  our  ideas  are  expanded,  and  our 
sympathies  widened,  humanity  becomes  more  than 
country,  more  than  king  or  queen.  The  idea  sup- 
plants the  symbol ;  loyalty  abates,  and  each  man  and 
woman  learns  to  stand  on  the  human  prerogative. 

Honor — that  prince  of  sentiments — what  is  it 
but  a  more  private  and  personal  kind  of  loyalty  ? 
Honor  is  man's  pride  in  himself ;  it  may  be  a  feeling 
of  self  sufficiency,  At  the  best  it  is  the  feeling  that 
makes  one  respect  himself  in  view  of  conduct  to- 
wards a  friend  to  whom  he  is  attached,  or  a  circle 
with  which  he  is  bound  up  ;  a  cause  or  interest  from 
which  he  cannot  dissociate  himself. 

Take  even  that  delicate,  lovely  grace  called  mod- 
esty, the  sweetest,  fairest,  most  aromatic  of  virtues, 
that  bloom  almost   too  evanescent  to   be   called   a 
quality,  yet  which  possesses  all  the  subtle  force  of  a 
quality— take  Modesty  to  pieces,  and  what   is  it? 
shyness,    timidity,     self-distrust,     self-depreciation, 
self-contempt    possibly,    a   quality    that    frequently 
marks  those  who  do  not  estimate  themselves  at  their 
due  worth,  who  can   not   assert   their  own   dignity, 
who  are  unable  to  stand  upon  their  own  virtue  and 
go  timidly  about,  deferring  to   others,   and   meekly 
waiting  for  some  gift  or  commendation  to  be  bestow- 
ed by  a  recognized  superior. 

This  analysis  may  be  incontestably  just.      It   is 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


169 


quite  possible  that  Buckle  is  right.       It  is  quite  pos- 
sible     that     thanksgiving,    loyalty,     honor,      adora- 
tion, reverence,  modesty  may  all   start   from   some 
such   mean   beginning.      What   of    it?      The  pond 
lily  that  floats  in  water  in  your  parlor  had  its  roots 
in  the  mud.  .  Go  down  into  the  slime  from  which  it 
grew  and  you  find  all  manner  of    disgusting  things. 
Is  the  lily  the  less  beautiful,  its  whiteness  less  love- 
ly, its  aroma  less  sweet  ?  Is  it  any  the  less  one  of 
the  most  charming  creatures  of  nature  ?  Is  the  rose 
which  beauty  wears  on  its   bosom   any   the   less   ex- 
quisite in  color  and   fragrance  because  it   has  to  be 
diligently  cultivated  in  the  dirt  of    the  garden,  or 
the  confinement  of   an  earthen  pot  ?    Beauty  does 
not  carry  around  the  earthen  pot  wherever  it  carries 
around  the  rose.     The  mud   does   not   disgrace   the 
lily. 

What  if  the  work  of  art,  a  Transfiguration  by 
Raphael,  an  Assumption  by  Titian  be  nothing  but 
a  few  course  pigments  put  on  rough  canvas?  Is  the 
picture  less  divine  ?  Does  it  any  the  less  fascinate 
generation  after  generation  of  beholders  and  fasci- 
nate them  more  and  moreas  the  exquisiteness  of  the 
beauty  is  appreciated  ? 

The  visitor  in  the  cathedral  of  Saint  Peter  at 
Rome,  standing  on  the  marble  floor  looks  up  into 
the  dome  which  springs  over  head  like  the  all  cover- 


lyc 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


ing  heaven.  There  in  a  glorious  atmosphere  of 
blue  are  floating  the  forms  of  apostles,  evangelists 
and  saints,  angelic  in  their  lightness  and  grace.  To 
the  worshipper  on  the  pavement  rapt  in  wonder,  the 
heavens  seem  coming  down  with  these  angelic  forms. 
Up,  through  a  narrow  winding  stairway,  he  climbs 
to  the  narrow  balcony  that  surrounds  the  dome. 
What  are  those  forms  made  of  ?  Bits  of  charcoal ; 
pieces  of  brick ;  fragments  of  broken  glass,  which 
the  artist,  calculating  the  effect  from  below,  put  in 
their  places,  where  each  one  would  be  most  effective. 
Who  cares  that  the  floating  forms  are  composed  of 
such  base  materials  picked  up  in  the  street?  There 
they  are  ;  there  they  have  been  ever  since  the  artist 
placed  them  there.  There  they  will  stand  as  long  as 
the  mighty  edifice  is  allowed  to  remain  on  the  globe. 
It  is  of  no  consequence  that  lovely  things  have 
ugly  beginnings.  The  question  is,  are  the  things  in 
themselves  beautiful?  Take  again  this  sentiment  of 
reverence.  Its  beginning  we  will  say  was  in  wonder 
born  of  ignorance ;  in  fear  born  of  weakness.  Grant 
that  it  is  the  parent  of  superstitions  which  have 
crushed  millions  to  the  dust.  Grant  that  kings  and 
priests  have  played  upon  it,  and  by  means  of  it  have 
degraded  mankind.  Grant  all  this  without  discus- 
sion ;  certainly  some  of  the  most  ugly  things  in  hi.s- 
tory  are  traceable  to  that  root.     Yet  reverence,  when 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


171 


cultivated  and  refined  as  it  appears  in  noble  spirits, 
has  a  spiritual  grace  so  exquisite  that  it  deserves  to 
be  called  divine.  Hear  what  Immanuel  Kant  said 
about  it :  "-  Two  things  excite  my  veneration — the 
starry  heavens  and  the  moral  nature  of  man." 
Who  was  Immanuel  Kant  ?  Was  his  fear  born  of 
weakness?  Was  his  wonder  born  of  ignorance?  He 
was  the  prince  of  modern  philosophers,  one  of  the 
greatest  mathematicians  in  his  time;  one  of  the 
profoundest  psychologists  of  all  time.  Immanuel 
Kant  foretold  the  existence  of  the  planet  Uranus 
before  Herschel  discovered  it.  He  was  no  more 
awe-struck  before  the  heavens,  believing  the  stars  to 
be  living  creatures,  than  the  first  of  modern  astrono- 
mers is;  Immanuel  Kant  has  earned  an  immortality 
of  fame  by  the  patient  skill  with  which  he  searched 
the  human  mind  and  tracked  out  the  process  of  its 
development.  Can  we  therefore  not  venerate  where 
the  leader  of  thought  in  this  modern  age  bowed  head 
and  bent  knee  ? 

Thanksgiving,  it  may  be  true,  is  a  species  of  self- 
complacency.  It  is  associated,  grant  it,  with  a  pro- 
voking self-conceit.  We  are  angry  at  times  with  the 
complacent  gratitude  of  people  who,  having  every 
thing  they  want,  forget  the  myriads  who  have  noth- 
ing they  want  at  all.  Grant  that  it  is  maddening  at 
times  to  witness  the  gratefulness  of  people  who  in- 


172 


THE    HIGHER     SENTIMENTS. 


terpret  their  good  fortune  as  a  mark  of  divine  affec- 
tion, and  cosset  their  vanity,  with  the  feeHng  that 
they  are  of  the  elect,  picked  out  by  Providence  from 
the  rest  of  mankind.  Yet,  in  a  noble  breast,  what 
is  lovelier  than  the  disposition  to  assume  the  attitude 
of  a  recipient  before  nature,  before  man,  before  the 
near  friend,  always  occupying  the  position  of  a  crea- 
ture who  does  not  possess  everything  and  who  there- 
fore is  not  ashamed  to  say  "  thank  you,"  to  any  who 
will  bestow  a  desirable  gift. 

The  sentiment  of  loyalty  is  indeed  associated  with 
some  of  the  most  repulsive  things  in  history,  with 
cruelty,  oppression,  servility,  narrowness,  partisan- 
ship, blind  fanaticism,  wild  enthusiasm  that  has 
scarcely  anything  but  ignorance  in  it.  And  yet, 
what  is  more  kindling,  what  more  transporting,  than 
to  see  a  man  or  woman  faithful  to  principle,  a  re- 
former clinging  to  his  cause,  a  philanthropist  pursu- 
ing his  idea  of  rectitude,  a  dreamer  following  his  vis- 
ion, and  persisting  in  devotion  to  it  in  the  face  of 
poverty,  contempt,  suffering,  and  shame.  The  sen- 
timent in  this  form  does  ennoble,  and  it  betokens  a 
noble  person. 

When  the  word  honor  is  mentioned,  everybody 
thinks  at  once  of  duelling,  and  duelling  is  one  of  the 
most  absurd,  one  of  the  most  futile,  one  of  the  most 
senseless  of  human  proceedings.     The  code  of  hon- 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


173 


or  is  the  code  of  the  duellist.  Grant  it.  Grant 
that  honor  has  been  associated  with  brutality,  cow- 
ardice, servility,  and  cruelty.  Nevertheless,  the 
sentiment  of  honor  it  is  which  makes  the  common 
man  a  gentleman.  It  gives  the  gentleman  his  quality 
of  gentleness.  It  takes  the  ordinary  coarse  stuff 
that  human  nature  is  made  of  and  transfigures  it  till 
it  becomes  a  fine  ideal  essence.  It  makes  a  man 
ready  to  pledge  his  life  rather  than  compromise  the 
fair  purity  of  his  character. 

Modesty  may  be  shyness,  self-depreciation,  self- 
contempt.  But  suppose  all  women  were  immodest. 
Suppose  no  man  to  depreciate  himself,  taking  him- 
self perhaps  at  somewhat  less  than  he  is  worth. 
What  would  become  of  society  ?  What  would  become 
of  humanity  then?  This  loveliest  flower  of  modesty, 
so  evanescent,  so  intangible,  gives  the  blossom  to 
all  our  relationships. 

We  affirm  the  practical  uses  of  the  finest  and  sub- 
tlest things.  A  few  years  ago  people  spoke  of  flow- 
ers as  if  they  were  ornamental  superfluities  tossed 
upon  the  surface  of  Nature,  pretty  things  enough, 
but  of  no  use,  signs  of  the  overflow  of  the  divine 
benignity,  the  sport  of  creative  genius,  fanciful 
creatures,  thrown  off  in  glee,  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
thing.  But  we  know  that  the  rose  owes  its  bloom,  and 
the  lily  its  whiteness,  and   the  heliotrope  its   frag- 


174 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


ranee  to  the  necessity  that  each  thing  should  do  its 
part  in  the  working  economies  of  nature.  The  color 
of  the  bird's  wing,  the  gloss  on  the  dove's  feather, 
is  actually  necessary  in  a  working  world,  is  useful  and 
indispensable.  There  is  not  a  line,  a  tint,  a  blending 
of  hues  on  the  crest  of  a  bird  or  the  gauzy  wing  of 
an  insect,  that  has  not  its  place  assigned  in  the  hus- 
bandry of  the  world.  It  is  there  as  anything  else 
might  be  there,  for  a  purpose.  If  the  flowers  were 
destroyed,  if  the  birds  lost  their  beauty,  something 
more  would  vanish  from  the  world  than  loveliness. 
We  should  all  breathe  fouler  air,  and  live  in  a  pesti- 
lential universe.     We  should  all  droop  and  die. 

Thus  I  claim  for  the  higher  sentiments  in  their  del- 
icate, spiritual,  transfigured  form,  a  practical  use  in 
the  education  of  mankind  ;  I  contend  that,  without 
them,  life  would  not  long  continue  to  be  affluent  or 
desirable.  The  intellectual  vigor,  the  moral  force, 
the  spiritual  impulse  of  the  world  would  abate  and 
finally  cease. 

See  how  important  these  things  are  in  the  educa- 
tion of  personal  character.  Consider  their  use  as 
preventiv  s  of  evil.  Many  years  ago  an  enter- 
prising man,  who  lived  on  a  neck  of  land  running 
out  into  the  sea,  his  dwelling  exposed  to  the  rude 
breath  of  the  ocean,  conceived  the  idea  of  raisin^r 
garden  fruits  on  his  soil.     After  much  thought   and 


THE    HIGHER    SENTLMENTS. 


175 


many  costly  experiments,  he  surrounded  his  domain 
with  a  fine  fence  of  lattice  work,  very  light,   appar- 
ently very  weak ;  yet  this  fragile  wall   so   sifted  the 
air  that  blew  upon  it  from  the  ocean,  that  the  saline 
particles  were  strained  out,  the  quality  was  softened 
and  the  bitterness  quite  destroyed.     On  the  outside 
of  the  fence  was  a  thick  incrustation  of  salt ;  on  the 
other  side,  but   a    few    inches    away,    flowers    were 
blooming,  peaches  and  pears  were   ripening,   grapes 
were  hanging  in  clusters  from  the  vines,  plums  were 
glowing  amid  the  leaves.     The  atmosphere   on   one 
side  of  the  fence  was  cold,  bleak  and  biting  ;  noth- 
ing would  grow   there,   not   even   a  tree.      On   the 
other  side  of  the  fence,  it  was  genial   summer.      A 
similar  eff"ect   is  found  to  be  produced  by  trees  and 
shrubbery.     We  are  assured  that  extensive  tracts  of 
the  globe  have  been  wasted,   devastated,   made   ut- 
terly unproductive,  made  useless  for  human   habita- 
tion, by  the  cutting  down   of  trees.       It    is   equally 
true  that  by  planting  trees,  a   line   of    shrubbery,   a 
belt  of  herbage,  these   disastrous  -fleets  may  be  re- 
moved and  the  desert  be  made  to  blossom   like   the 
rose.     The  same  effect  that  these  fine  agencies  have 
upon  the  luxuriance    of    nature    and    the    terrestial 
comfort  of  man,  the  moral  sentiments  will  have  upon 
human  character. 

I  heard  a  story  the  other  day  of  the  war.     In  one 


176 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


of  the  southern  camps  the  officers  held  revel ;   they 
were  far  away  from  home  in  a  strange  country.  The 
enemy  were  in  front  of  them.     They  were  reckless 
and  uncivilized.     Their  revel  partook  of  the  charac- 
ter of  their  life.     It  was  loud,  boisterous  and  inde- 
cent.    Songs  were  sung,  stories  were  told,  jests  were 
made  which  no  modest  ear  could  listen  to.       In  the 
company  sat  a  young  man  who  went  at  the  solicit- 
ation of  his  comrades,  his  tastes  not   inclining  him 
to  go  ;  for  he  was  of  New  England  parentage,  care- 
fully nurtured   and   well    instructed.     Silent  he  sat 
amid  the  din,  not  joining  in    the   mirth,  making  no 
response  to  song  or  toast  until  late  in   the   evening, 
when  he  was  observed  sitting  by  himself  and  appar- 
ently taking  no  interest  in  what  was  going  on  about 
him.  Then  one  after  another  flung  gibes  at  him,  taunt- 
ed him  upon  his  silence,    reproached    his    stupidity. 
When  the  revel  had  reached   its    height  he   was,  in 
turn,  called  on  for  a  sentiment.      He  sat  silent  for   a 
few  seconds,  and  then   arose  :     "  Gentlemen,    I   give 
you  '  Our  Mothers.'  "    The  effect  was  instantaneous. 
There  was  an  end  of  the  revel.     No  more   indecent 
stories  were  told  ;  no  more  ribald  songs  were  sung  ; 
no  more  unseemly  jests  were  made.     The  humor  of 
the  occasion  began  to  ebb  out.     The  animation  was 
gone  ;  one  after  another,  the  men  went  to  their  tents, 
with  something  in  their  hearts  that   had    not    been 


THE     HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


177 


there  before.  That  one  sentiment,  embodied  in  two 
words,  acted  as  the  fringe  of  trees  will  act  upon  the 
wilderness ;  it  restored  the  waste  to  bloom. 

Consider  what  power  of  inspiration  there  may  be 
in  any  high  sentiment — what  power  to  quicken  pur- 
pose, to  elevate  thought,  to  nerve  will.    Some  years 
ago  in  the  city  of  Dresden,  wandering  idly  about  the 
town,  I  found  myself  in  a  dark  and  narrow  street, 
a  ail  dc  sac,  or  blind  alley  ;  lifting  up  my  eyes  I  saw, 
high  up,  an  open  window  and  a  pot  of  roses  stand- 
ing in  it.     Presently  a  woman  came  to  the  window. 
Seeing  a  stranger  in  the   street   below   looking   up, 
she  went  away  and  presently  returned,  bringing  an- 
other pot  which  she  placed  by  the  side  of    the   first. 
Then  she  seated  herself  at  her  sewing  by  the    win- 
dow.    She  was  evidently  a  poor  working  woman, 
else  she  would  not  have  lived  there,  so  high   up,   in 
an  out  of  the  way  street,  in  a  large  town.       I   imag- 
ined her  sewing  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  year 
in  and  year  out,  at  her  wearing  toil,  scarcely  earning 
money  enough  by  all  her  labor  to  keep  herself  alive  ; 
and  then  I  thought  how  much   comfort,  how  much 
real  help,  aye,  how  much  inspiration,  if  that   is   not 
too  large  a  word,  she  owed  to  these  little  plants,  and 
to  the  care  she  took  of  them,  to  her  daily   minister- 
ing towards  them.     That  little  flower  carried  her  out 
into  the  fields,  associated  her  with  their  beauty,  told 


178 


THE  highp:r  sentiments. 


her  of  gardens  where  such  things  bloom  all  the  year 
round.  Ay,  did  not  they  tell  her  of  that  wondrous 
nature  whose  chemistry  extracts  out  of  the  sods 
these  loveliest  of  all  created  things?  Was  not  this 
poor  woman,  simply  by  the  ministrations  of  her  pot 
of  roses,  brought  into  immediate  communion  with 
the  creative  power  of  the  world  ;  and  was  she  not 
thus  assisted  in  her  daily  toil,  by  these  weakest 
creatures  of  nature  ? 

I  love  to  think  of  that  charming  story  of  Haw- 
thorne, "  The  Great  Stone  Face,"  where  a  youth  of 
the   village  seeing  a   face   carved   on   the   mountain 
side,  set   it   up  as  an  ideal,  strove  to  be  in  mind  all 
that  seemed   to   be,  and  in  the   course  of  years  built 
himself  up  into  a  noble  manhood,  through  contem- 
plation of  it.    There  was  no  face  there.     It  was  only 
a  heap  of  rocks  piled  grotesquely  together.      Every- 
thing depended  on  the  point  of  view,  whether  one 
stood   in    a    particular   spot,  at  a  special  hour,  and 
caught  the  light   upon   the  rock  at  a  peculiar  ang  :. 
The  youth  did  so.     The   image   was   in  his  imagina- 
tion.     But  this   was  enough.      It  is  enough  to  have 
an  image  in  one's  imagination,  no  matter  whether  it 
exist  in  substance  or  not.     The  actual  thing  need 
not  exist.      Uream   of  it,  have  a  vision   of  it,  catch 
the   imagination   of   it,  and    it   will    work    upon    the 
mind  with  its  fine  chisel.     Sculpture  within  you  the 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


179 


saint,  madonna,  hero,  as  Michael  Angelo  sculptured 
the  David  out  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  useless  block 
of  stone. 

The  old  problem  is  whether  people  can  ever  be- 
come any  better  than  they  are  ;  whether  they  can 
ever  do  anything  for  themselves ;  whether  they  can 
lift  themselves  up  into  any  higher  realm  of  enter- 
prise or  achievement.  Some  few  can  do  so  by  dint 
of  hard  work.  Some  few  prosaic  people  ;  some  few 
holy  people  without  imagination  or  fancy,  or  illu- 
sion, go  to  work,  dig,  delve,  plant,  sow,  faithfully, 
year  in  and  year  out,  put  one  stone  on  the  top  of 
another  until  the  structure  of  goodness  is  erected. 
But  such  are  very  rare. 

Those  who  can  do  this  are  so  very  few,  that  their 
examples  count  for  nothing.  Yet  there  is  not  one 
of  us  who  may  not  become  transformed  and  il- 
luminated by  an  idea,  a  thought,  a  vision,  a  senti- 
ment. Learn  to  love  a  noble  person  ;  learn  to  ad- 
mire a  heroic  deed  ;  fall  under  the  influence  of  some 
man  or  woman  who  is  the  incarnation  to  your 
imagination  of  dignity,  grace,  serenity  and  purity ; 
no  matter  whether  the  qualities  are  there  or  not,  if 
you  //link  they  are  there,  they  are  there  for  you. 
Cling  to  what  you  think  is  there.  Worship  your 
ideal,  though  it  be  nothing  but  an  idol.  If  you 
give    it    attributes    such   as  you    admire,   then  you 


i8o 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


P 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


l8l 


admire  the  attributes.  Continue  to  admire  the  at- 
tributes. Whether  the  idol  is  cast  down  or  not; 
whether  your  form  passes  away  or  not,  cling  to 
your  idea ;  worship  your  dream  ;  follow  your  vision, 
and  gradually  you  will  find  that  your  interior  quali- 
ties are  undergoing  change ;  your  life  is  becoming 
ennobled,  your  purposes  are  becoming  firm  and 
serene,  and  you  yourself  are  gradually  floating  up  to 
higher  regions  of  being. 

Even  in  society,  taken  in  a  large  and  broad  view, 
these  finest  sentiments  have  their  protecting  power. 
Ours  is  a  utilitarian  age;  by  this  I  mean  no  dis- 
paragement ;  rather  the  reverse,  for  every  great  age 
is  utilitarian,  and  every  age   which   is  truly  utilita- 
rian must  be  great ;  an  age  that  is  not  a  utilitarian 
age,  an  age  that  does  not  study  uses,  that  does  not 
aim  at  performance,  that  does  not  show  what  it  can 
do  by  actual   achievements,  that   does   not   seek  to 
benefit  the  world  in  some  way,  is  an  age  of  hypoc- 
risy, affectation,  sentimentalism  and  pretense.     The 
mere  fact  that  ours  is  a  utilitarian  age  is  not  against 
it ;  this  may  be  its  honor.     It  is  only  when  we  use 
the  word  utilitarin  in  the  low  sense,  when  we  set  up 
a   base   standard    of   use,  that    we    speak    disparag- 
ingly.    Most  of  those  who  criticise  our  age  as  being 
utilitarian  condemn    it  because    we  subject   ever>'- 
thing  to  the  money-standard.     What   is  the  thing 


good  for?  Can  you  eat  it?  Can  you  wear  it ?  Can 
you  drink  it  ?  Does  it  help  one  along  in  his  busi- 
ness? Does  it  assist  him  to  make  money?  This  is 
lowering  the  standard  of  utility.  Utility  in  its 
highest  aspect  is  beautiful.  What  is  use  ?  What  is 
the  use  of  music,  the  finest  expression  of  the  mind? 
What  is  the  use  of  poetry  ?  If  a  man  has  anything 
to  say,  why  does  he  not  say  it  as  plainly  as  possible, 
in  words  that  all  can  understand?  Why  make 
anything  but  prose  ?  The  critic  forgets  that  poetry 
is  prose  idealized;  is  thought  lifted  up  into  the 
realm  of  imagination,  intellect  associated  with  har- 
mony and  melody.  The  poet  associates  feeling 
with  thought,  and  in  the  rhythm  and  flow  of  his 
verse  he  connects  the  meaning  with  melody,  in  a 
way  that  enchants  us,  even  when  it  is  inarticulate. 
Thus  we  say  of  these  fine  sentiments  that  they  are 
useful,  simply  because  they  communicate  fragrance 
and  quicken  sensibility  in  the  mind. 

What  is  the  use  of  pictures  ?  They  will  not  bring 
as  much  as  you  paid  for  them.  What  is  the  use  of 
a  statue  ?  It  has  cost  a  vast  deal  of  money,  and 
after  all  it  is  so  heavy  it  may  break  through  the 
floor.  What  is  the  use  of  the  elegant  rugs,  the 
charming  tapestry,  the  exquisite  porcelain  that  we 
buy  and  put  upon  our  shelves,  hang  upon  our  walls, 
or  spread  upon  our  floors?     Yet  what  would  life  be 


. 


l82 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


without  such  things  ?  That  is  the  question.  True, 
they  cost  money  and  they  return  none  to  us.  They 
take  money  out  of  our  purses  and  put  none  in ;  but 
they  put  something  into  our  minds,  a  sensibiHty,  a 
fineness  of  perception,  a  tact  and  touch  which  is 
worth  more  than  gold  and  silver  to  us.  It  is  the 
spirit  that  refines  and  sanctifies  the  world. 

I  have  a  criticism  to  make  on  our  radical  faith, 
that  it  tends  to  become  prosaic,  that  it  forgets  to 
what  a  degree  religion  stands  for  these  higher  senti- 
ments of  the  soul.     In  our  endeavor  to  make  every- 
thing plain,  to  put  away  supersition,  to  dash  idols, 
to  expose  hypocrisy  and  fraud,  to  drag  divine  things 
out  of  the  dark  and  show  precisely  what  they  are, 
to   convict  the   priesthood   of   falsity,  to   show  that 
the  altars  are   but   common  stone,  in  our  endeavor 
to  do  this— an  endeavor  which  must  be  persevered 
in  to  the  very  end,  although  the  process  be  exceed- 
ingly bitter,— are  we  not  prone  to  forget  that,  after 
all,  the  real  influence  of  religion  must  turn  upon   its 
power    to    keep   hovering   over   the   minds   of   men 
these  evanescent  sentiments  of  awe,  wonder,  rever- 
ence, aspiration,  which    should  be  at  work    all  the 
time,  lifting  up  man  above  the  the  level  of  prosaic 
life.     Science  is  not  religion;  philosophy  is  not  re- 
ligion ;  business  is  not  religion ;  morality  is  not  re- 
ligion.    Religion  is  that  fine  quality  which   stinriu- 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS 


183 


lates  when  we  are  faint,  consoles  when  we  are  un- 
happy, steals  into  our  minds  when  they  are  vacant 
and  distressed.  This  is  the  reason  why  no  prosaic 
form  of  religion  has  ever  held  its  place  in  the  world. 
This  is  the  reason  why  what  is  called  Unitarianism 
has  never  flourished,  never  will  flourish,  it  is  prose 
and  not  poetry  ;  it  is  perfectly  easy  to  understand, 
and  has  no  element  for  the  soul.  We  want  some- 
thing that  nobody  can  understand — not  because  it 
is  out  of  the  reach  of  intelligence,  but  because 
it  is  too  subtle,  like  music,  for  the  intelligence  to 
lay  hold  on — something  to  be  caught  on  the  wing, 
something  for  the  heart  to  love,  something  for  the 
soul  to  worship.  And  it  is  my  hope,  as  it  is  my 
endeavor  in  all  my  efforts  to  take  the  mask  off 
of  religion  and  expose  it  for  the  sham  that  it  so 
often  is,  to  show  how  behind  all  these  symbols 
and  forms  are  lovely  visions  of  beauty,  sublimity, 
and  truth,  which  play  sweetly  on  the  surface  of  hu- 
man sensibility.  That  much-boasted  symbol  of  the 
Christ,  purely  imaginary,  a  creation  of  the  imagina- 
tion,— take  the  mire  of  superstition  off ;  wipe  away 
the  dust  ;  clear  it  of  the  heavy  earth  that  clings 
to  it,  show  it  as  the  dream  of  gentleness  and 
truth  it  is,  exhibit  it  as  a  symbol  which  humanity 
in  its  best  movements  has  looked  to,  and  hoped  it 
might  realize.     How  lovely  it  is !     For  one  I  never 


1 84 


THE    HIGHER   SENTIMENTS. 


can  be  quite  reconciled  to  taking  it  entirely  out  of 
the  world.  For  if  we  did,  then  the  world  might 
become  harder  with  its  toil  and  grief,  and  we  might 
stumble  along,  creeping  and  crawling,  instead  of 
leaping  on  jubilant  feet.  The  new  religion,  the  re- 
licrion  of  the  future,  will  be  simply  religion  purified 

o 

and  glorified,  a  religion  able  to  communicate  a 
subtle  transforming  influence,  which  is  the  life  of 
our  life,  the  soul  of  our  soul. 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNBELIEF. 


My  theme  this  morning  is  the  characteristic  atti- 
tudes of  unbelief.  My  purpose  is  to  describe  the 
attitudes  which  unbelievers  in  religion  hold  towards 
believers,  and  to  indicate,  if  I  may,  what  an  unbe- 
liever's attitude  ought  to  be.  So  far  as  this  address 
may  be  entitled  to  be  called  a  sermon,  it  is  preached 
to  unbelievers.  If  any  are  criticised  they  are  criti- 
cised. If  rebuke  falls  upon  any  it  must  fall  upon 
them,  and  if  any  are  to  be  exhorted  to  a  nobler 
performance,  the  unbeliever  must  receive  the  ex- 
hortation. 

Ours  is  loosely  called  an  age  of  unbelief;  more  so 
than  any  other  age  ever  has  been  ;  and  perhaps  it 
is.  Unbelief  is  more  widely  spread  now  than  it 
ever  was  ;  it  is  more  general ;  it  comprehends  more 
classes  of  people ;  it  embraces  more  orders  and 
varieties  of  mind.     It  is  more  intelligent ;  it  is  more 


1 84 


THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 


can  be  quite  reconciled  to  taking  it  entirely  out  of 

the  world.     For   if  we   did,  then   the   world  might 

become  harder  with  its  toil  and  grief,  and  we  might 

stumble  along,   creeping  and    crawling,   instead    of 

leaping  on  jubilant  feet.     The  new  religion,  the  re- 

Ijcrion  of  the  future,  will  be  simply  religion  purified 
fc> 

and  glorified,  a  religion  able  to  communicate  a 
subtle  transforming  influence,  which  is  the  life  of 
our  life,  the  soul  of  our  soul. 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNBELIEF. 


My  theme  this  morning  is  the  characteristic  atti- 
tudes of  unbelief.  My  purpose  is  to  describe  the 
attitudes  which  unbelievers  in  religion  hold  towards 
believers,  and  to  indicate,  if  I  may,  what  an  unbe- 
liever's attitude  ought  to  be.  So  far  as  this  address 
may  be  entitled  to  be  called  a  sermon,  it  is  preached 
to  unbelievers.  If  any  are  criticised  they  are  criti- 
cised. If  rebuke  falls  upon  any  it  must  fall  upon 
them,  and  if  any  are  to  be  exhorted  to  a  nobler 
performance,  the  unbeliever  must  receive  the  ex- 
hortation. 

Ours  is  loosely  called  an  age  of  unbelief ;  more  so 
than  any  other  age  ever  has  been  ;  and  perhaps  it 
is.  Unbelief  is  more  widely  spread  now  than  it 
ever  was  ;  it  is  more  general ;  it  comprehends  more 
classes  of  people;  it  embraces  more  orders  and 
varieties  of  mind.     It  is  more  intelligent ;  it  is  more 


1 86 


ATTITUDES   OK    UNBELIEF. 


ATTITUDES    OF    UXRELIEF. 


187 


resolute  ;    it   is  more  earnest ;    it  is  more   serenely 
content   with   itself ;    it   is   less  passionately  aggres- 
sive  than  it   used  to  be,  and  it  is  far  sweeter  in   its 
spirit.     There   are   no   statistics  to  describe  the  nu- 
merical  or   geographical   extent    of  it.      It  is  larger 
than  can  be  expressed  in  figures,  more  diversified 
than  can  be   described   in   words.      The   absentees 
from  the  churches  are  not  all  unbelievers,  and  yet 
a  great  many  who  are  present  in  the  churches  are  ; 
consequently   ecclesiastical    connections  are  no  evi- 
dence.    Equally  difftcult  is  it  to  describe  the  varie- 
ties of  unbelief,  for  they  are  as  many  as  the  differ- 
ences of  mind.     Unbelief  is  of  all  kinds.     It  is  wise 
and  simple ;  learned  and  ignorant ;  thoughtful  and 
loose ;    philosophical   and  popular ;  deep  and   shal- 
low ;  it  is  the  unbelief  of  far-sighted  men  who  see 
behind  the  letter  into  the  spirit,  and  it  is  the  unbelief 
of  short-sighted  men  who  simply  stumble  over  the 
letter;  it  is  the  unbelief  of  those  who  worship  and 
believe  more,  and  it  is  the   unbelief  of  those  who 
worship  and  believe  less  ;    it    is   refining,  eloquent, 
lofty,  dignified;    it  is  coarse,  vulgar,  rude,  violent 
and  mean.     It  carries  itself  like  a  king,  stately  and 
calm,  and  it  grovels  in  the  dirt  like  a  scullion.   Who 
shall  describe  the  origin  of  it  ?     Some  of  it  is  born 
of  the   investigations  of  science,  some  of  it  of  the 
reasonings  of  philosophy,  some  of  it  of  intellectual 


doubt,  some  of  large,  earnest  and  patient  study  into 
the   conditions  of  social   progress;    but  most  of  it 
springs   probably    from    unquestioning    indifference 
to  ideal  things,  that  is  almost  peculiar  to  our  genera- 
tion and  our  people.     The  "  spirit  of  the  age  "  is  un- 
believing.    Ours   is  an  age  that  has  ceased  in  a  re- 
markable measure  to  search  after  divine  things,  and 
is  interested  mainly  in  human  and  terrestial  things  ; 
— an  age  when  men  seek  after  wealth,  power,  fame, 
the  felicities  of  an  earthly  condition  ;  where  the  dis- 
tant  future  has  become  dreamy,  and   the    present 
with  its  glittering  prizes  and  enticing  pleasures  alone 
seems  tangible  and  precious;  an  age  when  men  do 
not  send  out  the  fine  messengers  of  their  hope  and 
faith    to    explore    the  invisible   world,  but   put  out 
the  strong  hand  after  immediate  possessions.     We 
cannot    concede    to    the   popular    unbelief   of   the 
generation    the  possession   of   a   high   philosophical 
spirit ;  but  we  may  claim  as  much  as  this,  that  it  has 
the  spirit  of  the   age,  the  spirit   of  the  times,   the 
spirit  that  will  have  its  way  in  spite  of  institutions 
and  traditions,  even   in    spite  of   learning  and  phil- 
osophy. 

Let  me  group  together  in  two  general  classes  the 
unbelievers  to  whom  I  especially  address  myself 
this  morning.  I  will  classify  them  as  active  aggres- 
sors against  the  constituted  religion  of  the  commu- 


i88 


ATTITUDES   OF    UNBELIEF. 


nity,  and  as  passive  skeptics.  And  first,  the  active 
aggressors.  Naturally,  as  might  be  expected,  these 
are  determined  men,  men  of  courage,  who  see  more 
or  less  clearly  what  they  assail,  and  who  strike  hard 
blows  against  what  they  do  not  understand  or  can- 
not receive.  They  oppose  the  church  as  being  the 
enemy  of  progress  ;  they  oppose  creeds  as  being 
mistakes  in  philosophy  and  illusions  in  faith  ;  they 
oppose  ecclesiastical  institutions  as  being  founded 
upon  mistake  and  delusion,  sometimes  on  fraud  ; 
they  criticise  the  bible  as  being  a  human  book 
containing  fables  and  myths,  errors  in  science,  phil- 
osophy, morals;  a  book  which  is  revered  in  propor- 
tion as  it  is  misunderstood,  and  followed  to  the  in- 
jury of  its  devotees.  They  assail  instituted  religion 
on  the  ground  that  all  religious  institutions  under 
whatever  form  professed  are  superstitious,  and  that 
it  is  useless  to  make  nice  distinctions  between  them  ; 
that  it  is  merely  a  question  of  definition  when  we 
come  to  the  end.  They  are  from  honest  and  honor- 
able motives  anti-christian  and  anti-religious. 

Let  me  say  of  these  men  that  though  some  of 
them  are  coarse,  rude  and  blear-eyed,  there  are  fewer 
of  this  class  than  there  have  ever  been  in  any  preced- 
ing generation.  For  the  most  part,  as  I  personally 
know  them,  they  are  honest,  earnest  and  determined 
men, — some  of  them  men  of  great  nobility  of  char- 


ATTITUDES    OF    UNBELIEF. 


189 


acter,  of  singular  guilelessness  and  purity  of  life, 
men  unselfish  as  far  as  anybody  in  this  world  can 
be  unselfish,  men  humane  of  purpose,  generous  of 
aspiration,  men  who  are  determined  to  do  what 
they  can  in  their  short  life,  and  with  such  powers 
as  are  given  to  them,  to  emancipate  the  human 
mind  from  error,  to  release  the  human  affections 
from  the  thraldom  of  dogmatism  and  superstition, 
and  to  give  the  soul  wings  to  fly  far  over  the  whole 
intellectual  realm.  They  are  men  often  to  be  hon- 
ored, usually  to  be  respected,  sometimes  to  be 
deeply  loved — men  whom  I  willingly  admit  to  be 
my  masters,  and  whom  I  would  gladly  be  able  to 
serve  ;  still  they  have  their  limitations. 

Their  method  as  popularly  presented  is  open  to 
criticism.  They  do  not  as  a  general  rule  touch  the 
centres  of  thought.  The  best  philosophers,  the 
most  exact  scientists,  the  deep  and  accurate  class 
of  thinkers,  are  as  a  rule,  not  with  them.  They 
have  but  a  feeble  influence  in  the  literary  sphere ; 
in  the  world  of  pure  ideas  they  have  next  to  none. 
Stalwart  champions  they  are,  striding  through  the 
world  with  drawn  swords  in  their  hands  and  iron 
cuirasses  on  their  breasts,  ready  to  give,  equally  ready 
to  take.  But  of  the  fine  and  subtle  processes  by  which, 
in  the  maze  of  human  speculation,  one  arrives  at 
the  truth,  the  ordinary  infidel  knows  little. 


190 


ATTITLJDES    OF    UNHKLIEF 


Several  things  he  forgets.  In  the  first  place  he 
forgets  that  there  is  a  soul  of  truth  in  things  erro- 
neous;  that  things  even  when  essentially  mistaken 
are  not  all  mistakes  ;  that  the  human  mind  in  des- 
perately groping  its  way  through  darkness  towards 
light,  has  not  gone  altogether  or  hopelessly  wrong ; 
that  though  it  has  not  received  or  reached  the  final 
complete  answer  to  its  questions,  it  has  received 
some  answer;  that  though  it  has  not  found  all  it 
sought,  it  has  found  something  worth  having. 

The  people  at  large  know  nothing  of  this ;  the 
people  at  large  see  the  letter  but  nothing  behind  it, 
— see  the  word  but  miss  the  meaning.  They  spell 
out  chapter  and  phrase,  the  living  soul  out  of  which 
chapter  and  phrase  were  born,  they  know  nothing 
and  guess  nothing  of.  Here  and  there  is  a  fine  sub- 
tle, deeply-searching  mind,  who  reads  beneath  chap- 
ter and  verse,  and  feels  throbbing  within  them  the 
spirit  of  that  earnest  humanity  which  could  find  no 
other  expression  but  this,  when  it  fain  would  have 
found  a  better.  Men  of  heart  like  Charles  Kingsley, 
men  of  intellect  like  Frederick  W.  Robertson,  men 
of  soul  like  Frederick  Denison  Maurice,  men  of 
scholarship  like  Benjamin  Jowett,  men  of  elegant 
culture  like  dean  Stanley, — discern  a  soul  of  truth 
in  the  error  of  statement  and  form.  They  discard 
the  letter,  they  draw  out  the  idea ;  they  endeavor 


ATTITUDES    OF    UNHEI.IEF 


191 


to  make  the  truth  burn  and  kindle  in  the  minds  of 
their  contemporaries.  But  in  the  mass  of  crude 
unbelievers,  they  are  not  many  who  understand  the 
position  of  the  intellectual  heroes,  or  comprehend 
the  real  work  that  they  are  doing;  they  are  few 
who  give  them  credit  for  laboring  with  all  their 
might  to  bring  into  prominence  the  quickening 
thought  that  is  struggling  to  find  expression  in 
these  obsolete  forms. 

Another  thing  the  passionately  aggressive  unbe- 
liever forgets,  namely, — that  every  superstition  has 
its  day,  its  place  and  its  commission.  As  the  geolo- 
gist can  determine  the  age  and  original  locality  of 
a  boulder,  as  the  naturalist  can  classify  a  new  plant, 
so  the  thinker  to-day  groups  and  arranges  the  errors 
in  speculation,  the  creeds,  dogmas,  superstitions  of 
the  past  and  of  the  present,  tells  precisely  where 
they  belong,  out  of  what  state  of  mind  they  proceed, 
what  place  in  the  mental  progress  of  the  race  they 
once  filled,  what  human  needs  they  once  satisfied, 
how  that  and  nothing  else  could  have  prevailed  at 
the  particular  epoch  when  it  flourished.  We  must 
not  judge  these  spiritual  phenomena  by  our  present 
standard  of  truth.  Classify  them,  place  them  where 
they  belong,  render  full  justice  to  the  service  they 
were  appointed  or  qualified  to  render.  We  need  not 
believe  them  ;  we  may  heartily  disbelieve  them  if 


192 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNBELIEF. 


we  please,  but  we  must  do  them  justice.  The  geolo- 
gists describe  a  strange  creature  which  they  call  a 
pterodactyl,  intermediate  between  the  reptile  and 
the  bird,  found  in  the  series  of  Mesozoic  rocks.  It 
began  by  being  a  reptile,  but  soon  thought  better 
of  it  and  undertook  to  rise  in  the  air ;  yet  on  the 
way  this  resolution  gave  out ;  it  halted  midway  be- 
tween the  two  orders  of  creation,  and  ended  with 
being  a  cross  between  a  reptile  and  bird,  neither 
one  nor  the  other.  It  had  the  head  of  the  bird,  and 
the  neck  of  a  bird,  but  the  teeth  were  the  teeth  of 
the  crocodile  ;  it  exhibited  the  body  and  tail  of  the 
lizard,  and  the  wings  of  a  bat ;  the  fore-finger  was 
immensely  elongated  like  the  curved  claws  of  a 
bat.  Thus  qualified,  it  could  climb  a  tree,  walk  on 
the  ground,  or  fly  in  the  air.  The  enormous  size  of 
the  eye  socket  indicated  an  orb  capable  of  nocturnal 
vision.  What  will  the  conventional  mind  do  with 
the  pterodactyl?  No  kingdom  claims  it.  Yet  it 
had  just  as  much  right  to  live  as  you  or  I.  It 
doubtless  enjoyed  its  life.  It  came  at  its  appointed 
hour,  at  Nature's  bidding,  in  the  line  of  organic  de- 
velopment. It  could  not  have  dropped  a  single  one 
of  its  sixty  sharp  teeth  ;  it  could  not  have  shed  a  sin- 
gle one  of  its  long  hooked  claws.  Spreading  out  its 
wings  twenty  feet  in  span,  it  darkened  the  air  in 
spite  of  itself.     Ugly  though  it  was,  there  may  have 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNBELIEF. 


193 


I 


I 


been  creatures  in  its  generation  that  thought  it  hand- 
some. Shall  we  judge  such  a  monster  by  the  latest 
standard  of  geological  perfection?  Will  you  try  it 
by  the  finest  form  of  organized  being  that  domestic 
cultivation  will  furnish  ?  Then  you  do  yourself  an 
injustice,  and  it  an  injustice  no  less. 

So  it  is  with  strange  intellectual  beliefs.  The 
horrid  superstitions,  the  hideous  rites,  the  ghastly 
creeds  that  linger  about  in  the  purlieus  of  human 
intellect — wild,  futile,  foolish,  have  their  day  and 
fulfill  their  office.  Put  them  away,  but  admit  there 
was  a  time  when  this  and  this  only  could  give  ex- 
pression to  some  tendency  of  nature,  to  some 
natural  movement  of  the  heart,  to  some  predeter- 
mined attempt  of  the  mind  to  pass  from  lower  to 
higher  conditions.  As  nature  struggles  on  in  the 
course  of  evolution  from  lower  to  higher  and  thence 
to  the  highest,  so  the  mind  of  man,  pressing  on 
towards  its  felicity  in  truth,  stops  by  the  way  tired, 
faint  and  sick,  rests  its  head  on  a  stone  and  calls 
the  stone  a  temple. 

Let  me  speak  of  another  matter  which  the  crude 
unbeliever  is  inclined  to  forget  this,  namely, — that 
the  realm  of  religion  is  the  realm  not  of  prose,  but 
of  poetry;  that  it  is  the  imagination,  the  feeling 
subtle  reason  that  feels  its  way  into  the  divine  mys- 
teries, and    not    the    critical    understanding   which 


I 


194 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNBELIEF. 


looks  at  questions  on  the  outside.  If  we  take  up 
religion  as  a  thing  to  be  pulled  to  pieces  with  the 
scalpel,  we  do  it  a  vast  injustice. 

The  bible  for  example  is  a  poetical  book.     The 
truly  religious   parts  of  it  belong  to  the  higher  de- 
partment of  poetry.      It  is  idle  to  criticise  them  by 
scientific    or  literary    laws,   to    bring    philosophical 
tests  to  bear  upon  them.     They  open  their  secret 
to  the  imagination.      The  story  of  the  creation  is 
open  to  discussion  ;  here  are  the  orthodox  on  the 
one   side   claiming   for  it   literal  and  precise  truth  ; 
there  are  the  scientific  people  on  the  other  side  bent 
on  proving  it  a  foolish  legend.     And  a  legend  it  is, 
though  not  of  necessity  a  foolish  one.     No  sensible 
man  can  accept   it  as  a  record  of  what  actually  oc- 
curred.    The  account  of  the  creation  in  the  book  of 
Genesis   is   not   addressed   to  the  modern  expert  in 
science.     Never  will  the  scientific  man  be  able  to 
prove  that  the  record  in  the  ancient  books  is  true  ; 
never  will   the   theologian   be  able  to   prove  that  it 
will   correspond  with   the    account    which    Thomas 
Huxley  or  John  Tyndall  give  of  the  order  of  de- 
velopment on   the  earth.      Properly  speaking,   the 
two  records  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other. 
They  have  nothing  in  common.     The  bible  account 
of  the  creation  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  pictorial  repre- 
sentation addressed  to  the  imagination  ;  it  is  appar- 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNBELIEF. 


195 


i 


ently  designed  to  impress  upon  the  sensibilities  of 
mankind  the  majestic  order,  the  persistent  force 
and  harmonious,  completeness  of  the  creative  pow- 
er.  Those  who  wrote  it  knew  nothing,  as  we  know, 
about  the  earth,  had  no  theory  of  successive  evolu- 
tions, possessed  no  clear  conceptions  of  the  order 
of  the  universe.  What  they  knew  was  what  they 
felt ;  and  what  they  felt  was  the  tremendous 
majesty  of  the  originating  power  that  created  light 
out  of  darkness,  and  compelled  the  chaos  to  burst 
into  beauty.  Is  not  that  enough  ?  Is  it  not  all 
that  can  be  required  to  refresh  and  invigorate  the 
mind  ?  


I 


Consider  again  the  bible  story  of  the  flood.  Sci- 
ence pronounces  it  incredible  ;  declares  that  there 
never  was  such  a  flood,  and  never  could  have  been ; 
that  there  never  was  such  a  vessel  as  the  ark,  and 
never  could  have  been.  Omnipotence  itself  must 
respect  the  conditions  of  space,  and  the  conditions 
of  space  forbid  the  packing  of  so  many  creatures 
into  so  small  a  space  as  is  described  in  the  story. 
The  tale  is  evidently  fabulous.  Bring  your  arith- 
metical objections  against  it  as  much  as  you  please ; 
prove  it  to  be  perfectly  absurd  in  every  incident ;  it 
is  easy  enough  to  do  it.  It  needs  no  scholar  like 
Colenso  to  pick  flaws  in  a  narrative  made  of  such  fab- 
ulous stuff.     An   intelligent  child  can  do  as  much. 


I 


196 


ATTirUDES    OK     UNBELIEF'. 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNKELIEF. 


197 


The  question  is,  what  does  the  story  mean  ?  What 
was  it  constructed  for?  What  if  it  should  mean  that 
evil  eradicates  the  race ;  that  vice,  crime  and  sin 
demoralize  mankind ;  that  the  flood  will  come  to 
overwhelm  guilty  men  ;  that  destruction  will  swoop 
down  and  blot  from  the  face  of  the  earth  people 
who  disobey  the  law  on  which  the  moral  universe 
rests.  What  if  it  should  mean  that  the  germ  of 
goodness,  the  seed  of  righteousness  and  vitality  will 
survive  all  floods ;  is  proof  against  all  disasters ; 
stands  up  in  face  of  every  calamity;  cannot  be 
wrecked  or  drowned,  but  though  the  whole  earth 
be  covered  with  water,  will  live,  will  come  to  the 
surface,  will  repeat  and  multiply  itself,  and  start 
new  lives  of  creatures  to  regenerate  the  earth. 

Read  thoughtfully  the  delicious  story  of  angels 
coming  to  Abraham  as  he  sat  by  the  door  of  his 
tent  at  the  close  of  the  day.  Abraham  meets  them, 
greets  them,  asks  them  in,  gives  them  the  best  he 
has,  spreads  his  simple  pastoral  food  for  them. 
They  bless  him,  turn  to  go  aw^ay,  communicate  to 
him  some  secret  of  providential  intention  and  van- 
ish. The  meaning  of  the  story  may  be  that  the 
faithful  man  who  welcomes  the  good  angels  when 
they  come,  in  whatever  guise,  receives  his  guests 
hospitably  and  offers  them  the  best  he  has,  will  be 
taken  into  favor  and  initiated  into  divine  mysteries. 


It  is  a  biographical  version  of  the  proverb  that  to 
him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be  opened.  What  a 
caricature  it  is  to  take  such  a  lovely  story  and  main- 
tain on  the  strength  of  it,  that  the  Old  Testament 
describes  Abraham  as  inviting  Jehovah  to  his  tent 
and  asking  him  to  eat  veal !  Such  a  parody  expres- 
ses the  failure  of  a  cross-grained  unbelief  to  under- 
stand the  deep,  subtle,  spiritual  truth,  that  must  be 
veiled  in  parable  and  myth  in  order  to  be  under- 
stood  at  all. 

The  cardinal  aim  and  purpose  of  this  generation 
should  be  not  to  destroy.  It  is  the  mission — let 
me  say  the  sacred  mission  of  the  serious  unbelief  of 
this  generation  to  discriminate  in  order  to  preserve. 
For  the  conflict  is  not  between  dogmas,  it  is  not  a 
question  whether  we  should  believe  in  one  God  or 
in  many,  whether  we  are  to  accept  one  kind  of 
definition  of  deity  or  another.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  systems  or  churches.  The  religion  which  is  pro- 
fessed by  the  people  is  a  part  of  the  people's  life. 
It  is  twined  in  with  all  their  sentiments,  prejudices, 
and  habits.  It  is  part  of  their  mental  constitution. 
We  cannot  go  beneath  the  surface  of  existence 
anywhere,  that  we  do  not  touch  the  substratum  of 
reverence.  Questions  of  philanthropy,  questions  of 
social  reform,  questions  of  business,  questions  of 
art,  of  philosophy,  of  literature,  are  all  impregnated 


" 


198 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNHEIJEF 


by  it.  We  cannot  root  it  out  without  rooting  out 
the  popular  consciousness.  The  point  therefore  is 
to  preserve  that  which  is  really  good,  the  sweetness 
of  sentiment,  the  holiness  of  purpose,  the  tender- 
ness of  feeling ;  let  the  husk  and  chaff  go  to  the 
winds ;  throw  the  tares  into  the  furnace,  and  see 
them  vanish  in  smoke  ;  but  gather  the  wheat  into 
the  barn  ;  throw  not  both  wheat  and  tares  into  the 
fire. 

The  great  business  of  to-day  is  not  to  pull  down, 
but  to  build  up.  My  friend,  the  architect,,  is  always 
careful  to  preserve  for  the  use  of  his  new  building 
whatever  valuable  material  the  old  building  fur- 
nished. He  will  not  discard  what  is  useful;  he  will 
use  what  is  available  ;  the  rest  he  lets  go.  So  it  is 
with  these  builders  in  the  world  of  faith.  They  put 
by  that  which  they  cannot  use,  but  fondly  cherish 
and  faithfully  employ  whatever  will  fill  an  import- 
ant place. 

This  is  the  unbeliever's  real  difficulty,  to  discrimi- 
nate between  what  is  worthless  and  what  is  of  value. 
It  is  a  task  that  no  man  can  do  whose  fingers  are 
all  thumbs.  It  is  not  a  task  for  the  dull,  the  coarse- 
minded,  the  cross-grained  ;  it  is  a  task  for  the  dis- 
cerning and  careful,  who  add  culture  to  feeling. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  the  passive  skeptics, 
who  are  the  greater  number  ?     When   the  religion 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNBELIEF 


199 


of  the  Roman  Empire  was  falling  to  pieces  from 
inability  to  satisfy  spiritual  wants,  there  were  two 
classes  of  men,  both  unbelievers,  both  indifferent, 
skeptical,  careless,  both  cherishing  no  respect  at 
heart  for  the  instituted  religion  of  the  Empire.  The 
one  set  was  careful  to  frequent  the  temples  ;  went 
punctually  through  the  forms ;  paid  ostentatious 
respect  to  the  priests.  It  was  one  of  this  class  who, 
whenever  he  passed  the  statue  of  Jupiter,  took  off 
his  hat  because  he  was  never  quite  sure  that  Jupiter 
would  not  have  his  turn  again,  and  he  wished  to  be 
on  the  winning  side.  The  other  class  was  equally 
skeptical,  more  honest,  but  no  more  reputable. 
They  went  their  way,  led  luxurious  lives,  cared  for 
themselves,  took  their  sensual  or  intellectual  ease  as 
the  case  might  be.  Many  of  them  were  cultivated, 
elegant,  refined.  They  never  went  inside  of  a  tem- 
ple, never  lent  a  hand  to  destroy  a  shrine,  never 
mutilated  a  statue  and  never  erected  one,  never 
lent  their  weight  to  the  cause  of  truth,  or  helped  to 
build  something  w^orthy  to  live  when  the  temple 
passed  away. — Idle,  frivolous  people,  happy  in  them- 
selves, they  were  for  the  most  part  vain  of  their 
intellectuality,  elated  by  their  skepticism,  proud  of 
their  doubt  and  unbelief,  boastful  of  their  illumina- 
tion, wit  and  scoffing;  aristocrats,  of  course,  exclu- 
sives,  fashionable   people,  gentry  who   could   afford 


2CO 


ATTITUDES    OK     UNBELIEF. 


to  despise  as  poor  and  ignorant,  the  people  who 
bowed  before  the  altar  or  brought  sacrifices  to  the 
God. 

Have  we  not  among  ourselves  classes  of  people 
corresponding  to  these  ?  Are  there  not  among  the 
multitudes  of  unbelievers,  many  who  belong  to  each 
of  these  groups?  Go  into  any  of  the  fashionable 
churches,  Romanist  or  Protestant,  and  you  will  see 
there  the  familiar  forms  of  your  acquaintances,  men 
and  women  whom  you  well  know  to  be  unbelievers : 
whom  you  have  heard  express  disbelief  in  the  sys- 
tem they  are  countenancing  ;  men  who  in  private 
will  disavow  and  flout  it.  They  patronize  the  pop- 
ular religion  because  it  is  convenient  to  do  so,  or 
because  it  is  "  the  thing,"  or  because  their  acquaint- 
ances are  to  be  met  in  the  audience,  or  because  the 
temple  is  near  their  houses  and  is  comfortable,  or 
because  their  wives  are  interested.  What  is  the  re- 
sult? Are  such  unbelievers  doing  justice  to  them- 
selves ?  Grant  that  they  do  something  by  their 
indifference  and  skepticism  to  discredit  the  system 
— do  they  not  do  vastly  more  by  their  conduct  to 
uphold  it?  Do  they  not  do  more  by  their  pres- 
ence, their  tacit  confession,  their  silent  testimony, 
than  their  private  gibes  correct?  What  avails  the 
sly  wink  in  the  corner,  the  shrug  of  the  shoulder 
when  they  hear  the  churches  mentioned,  if  Sunday 


ATTITUDES    OF     UNBELIEF. 


20I 


after  Sunday  they  are  seen  there  with  reverend 
form  and  solemn  face?  To  say  the  least  of  such  is 
to  say  that  they  are  without  earnestness,  and  they 
cannot  encourage  earnestness.  They  neither  be- 
lieve nor  disbelieve.  They  have  no  conviction  one 
way  or  another.  If  they  set  an  example  it  is  an 
example  of  indifference,  carelessness,  heedlessness 
and  hypocrisy.  The  example  they  set  is  not  that 
of  people  who  bear  witness  against  what  they  have 
discarded  ;  the  example  they  set  is  that  of  people 
who  bear  witness — the  best  witness  that  anybody 
can  bear,  to  a  system  they  discredit  and  repudiate. 
They  are  contributing  to  the  meanness,  the  base- 
ness, the  falsehood,  the  hollowness  that  is  under- 
mining the  foundations  of  sincerity  on  which,  at 
last,  all  institutions,  religious,  social,  secular,  must 
repose. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  those  other  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  elegant,  graceful,  refined,  it  may  be,  who 
simply  detach  themselves  from  all  religious  connec- 
tions, and  give  the  whole  matter  of  spiritual  thought 
the  go-by ;  who  countenance  no  meeting  for  in- 
struction or  worship ;  who  smile  compassionately 
on  those  who  do,  whether  they  go  to  one  church  or 
another ;  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  anything 
so  wild  and  visionary  as  what  they  call  supersti- 
tion ?     If  this  world   of  ours  were  a  world   of  idle 


i 


202 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNHKLIEF. 


dilettanteism,    careless    and    luxurious,    where    one 
might   decline  to  take  a  part  in  the  work  of  moral 
education  ;  if  there  were  not  a  terrific  battle  going 
on,  not  between  dogmas    opinions    or    creeds,   but 
between  ideas  and  principles — ideas  and  principles 
which  run  down  into  the  very  centre  of  all  public 
and    even    private    life,    such    an    attitude    as   this 
would  be  justifiable,  if  neither  noble  nor  reasonable. 
But  the   popular    religion   rests    upon    t'deas— upon 
certain  intellectual  assumptions,  certain    principles 
of    thought    and   sentiment    which    determine    how 
men  and   women  are  to  live,  privately  with  them- 
selves, socially  with    their    friends  and  their  com- 
panions ;    how  they  are  to  live  in  a  world  that  is 
regulated  by  eternal  law.     On  the  one  side  stands 
the  assumption  that  man  was  placed  a  mature  being 
on  the  planet,  put  here  purposely  by  providential 
decree  for  a  short  time  ;  that  he  is  made  an  object  of 
peculiar  interest  and  special  training  which  is  con- 
ducted by  miraculous  means  ;  that  the  highest  truths 
have  been  supernaturally  revealed  to  him  ;  that  he  is 
under  the  tutelage  still  of  priests  and  prophets,  must 
read  the  bible  on  his  knees,  as  an  exceptional  and 
inspired    book    which    contains   all   knowledge    of 
himself,  his  duty,  his  destiny.     On  the  other  side,  is 
the  conviction  clear  and  strong  that  man  is  the  last 
product  of  creation,  the  final  term   of  organic  de- 


f 


ATTITUDES     OF     UNBELIEF. 


203 


velopment ;  that  in  him  are  all  the  potencies  and 
powers  of  nature,  and  that  his  destiny  depends  on 
the  use  he  makes  of  them ;  that  progress,  not  re- 
generation is  the  law  of  his  life  ;  that  knowledge, 
not  revelation  is  his  teacher;  that  he  has  his  part 
to  perform,  his  work  as  a  rational  creature  to  do. 

The  battle  is  fairly  joined  between  these  opposite 
ranks  of  ideas.  View  it  in  whatever  aspect  we  will, 
the  aspect  of  political,  social,  philanthropic  reform, 
the  aspect  of  humanity  or  brotherly  kindness,  the 
aspect  of  philosophy,  literature,  art,  education,  the 
absolute  contradiction  between  the  two  positions  is 
apparent.  On  all  these  fields  the  battle  is  going 
on.  Shall  we  decline  to  join  in  it?  Shall  we  say 
the  issue  is  of  no  consequence?  Shall  we  say  there 
is  nothing  really  to  fight  about  ?  That  it  is  merely 
a  sham  fight  between  harlequins  in  different  coats? 

There  is  everytliing  to  fight  about.  It  seems  to 
me  that  the  responsibility  which  rests  on  earnest 
unbelievers  in  this  generation,  is  greater  than  has 
ever  rested  on  unbelievers  before — is  greater  than 
rests  on  any  class  of  people.  For  this  is  a  matter 
of  practical  utility,  not  less  than  of  speculative  in- 
terest. It  is  a  matter  involving  immediate  duty 
and  work.  We  talk  about  interests ;  are  not  these 
interests,  the  just  organization  of  society,  the  wise 
conduct  of  reform,  the  smooth  and  systematic  ar- 


204 


AT'llTUDES    OF    UNBELIEF. 


rangement  of  the  individual  life — are  these  not  vital 
concerns?  It  is  for  the  unbeliever  to  come  forward 
like  a  man,  stand  at  his  post,  choose  his  part  in  the 
great  struggle,  bear  his  witness,  give  money  if  he 
has  it,  thought,  intellectual  wealth ;  courage,  if 
that  is  his  characteristic ;  influence  if  he  carries 
it  ;  time,  if  he  can  command  it ;  the  pledge  of  his 
gifts,  whatever  they  may  be.  He  must  encourage 
his  opinions  to  become  convictions,  his  convictions 
to  become  deeds.  It  is  of  little  consequence 
whether  one  believes  in  trinity  or  in  unity :  it  is  of 
vast  consequence  that  one  should  believe  that  he 
is  a  man,  and  not  a  slave ;  it  is  of  vast  conse- 
quence that  one  should  believe  he  is  a  man  capa- 
ble of  thought  and  reason,  endowed  with  trust- 
worthy faculties,  charged  with  the  making  of  his 
own  lot,  able  to  discover  truth  for  himself  in- 
stead of  being  dependent  on  celestial  messengers, 
and  expecting  answers  to  his  questions  from  super- 
natural sources.  The  responsibility  of  the  unbe- 
liever goes  to  this  extent,  that  he  is  to  save  every- 
thing that  is  worth  saving  in  thought  and  senti- 
ment, is  to  make  good  whatever  has  thus  far  been 
gained  by  the  human  effort  of  generations,  and  to 
prove  that  unbelief,  doubt,  skepticism,  denial,  do  not 
pull  down,  but  rather  build  up  ;  do  not  destroy,  but 
on  the  contrary  fulfill ;  do  not  make  men  weak  and 


I 


ATTITUDES    OF    UNBELIEF. 


205 


impotent,  but  make  them  strong  and  capable ;  do 
not  dry  them  up,  but  exalt  and  expand  them  ;  do 
not  shut  them  in  a  prison,  but  open  the  prison- 
doors  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free ;  do  not  confine 
them  to  a  sphere  of  perishable  material  things,  but 
open  to  them  all  the  windows  that  look  into  the 
ideal  world.  It  is  a  responsibility;  ay,  it  is  a  mis- 
sion ;  a  solemn  charge  laid  upon  the  unbeliever  of 
this  generation  to  show  what  religion  in  its  full 
scope  can  do ;  what  its  tendency  really  is,  namely, 
to  exalt,  refine,  idealize  human  nature  and  human 
life. 

Of  the  three  attitudes,  that  of  toleration,  that  of 
charity,  and  that  of  honorable  ivarfare,  the  last 
alone  has  dignity.  To  tolerate  is  to  insult.  Tolera- 
tion implies  superior  authority  on  the  part  of  him 
that  tolerates  ;  the  possession  of  rights  and  powers 
which  he  forbears  to  exercise ;  the  right  to  summon 
a  policeman ;  the  right  to  persecute.  Toleration 
is  the  compassion  of  a  despot. 

Charity  easily  degenerates  into  sentimental  in- 
difference, which  smoothes  difificulties  away  till  they 
disappear  from  view.  Charity  soaks  the  creeds  till 
they  have  lost  their  color,  and  then  throws  them 
away  as  being  all  of  a  dirty  white.  Dwelling  on 
the  sympathies  of  religion  it  forgets  their  antipa- 
thies ;  listening  for  the  harmonies  it  loses,  the  pow- 


2o6 


ATTITUDES    OF    UNBELIEF 


er  to  detect  the  discord,  and  lapses  into  an  indolent 
complacency  that  is  unseemly  amid  the  clash  of 
spiritual  arms. 

The  true  attitude  is  that  of  honorable  resistance 
to  what  is  honestly  believed  to  be  error.  Manly 
warfare  against  credulity,  stupidity,  ignorance,  as- 
sumption, dogmatism,  a  determination  to  secure 
the  victory,  without  impairing  the  nobleness  or  the 
beauty  of  truth. 


THE  OFFICE  OF   PRAYER. 


It  has  been  for  some  years  the  custom  w^ith  the 
Evangelical  people  to  observe  the  first  week  of  the 
year  as  a  week  of  prayer.  The  origin  of  this  ob- 
servance was  not  certainly  love  of  ceremony  or  of 
formalism.  It  rather  was  a  part  of  a  new  efTort  to 
make  Christianity  a  living  and  fresh  force  in  society. 
The  observance  of  the  week  of  prayer  is  not  there- 
fore an  ecclesiastical  arrangement  external  and  cere- 
monial. It  is  a  real  service,  in  the  estimation  of 
those  who  perform  it.  It  is  done  in  earnest.  Of 
course  those  who  keep  the  week  of  prayer  believe 
there  is  a  Divine  Power  that  hears  and  answers 
prayer.  But  this  belief  may  be  held  in  a  noble,  as 
well  as  in  an  ignoble,  in  a  lofty  and  believing,  as 
well  as  in  a  narrow  and  superstitious  spirit.  The 
churches  that  observe  the  week  of  prayer  hold  the 
observance,  we  are   ready  to  suppose,   in  a   noble 


2o8 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


209 


fashion.  The  objects  they  pray  for  are  worth  hav- 
ing: better  schools,  purer  private  life,  sweeter  do- 
mestic relations,  more  generous  and  equitable  in- 
stitutions, more  humane  laws,  the  diminuition  of 
crime,  the  extermination  of  vice,  the  general  eleva- 
tion of  the  human  above  the  inhuman,  of  the 
rational  above  the  bestial. 

It  would  be  more  than  a  mistake  to  say  that 
earnest  christian  people  believe  that  the  best  things 
or  any  good  thing  in  fact,  may  be  had  merely  for 
the  asking.  It  is  nowhere  the  faith  of  Christendom 
that  a  ceremonious  petition  of  the  lips  by  however 
many  people  offered,  will  be  prevailing  with  the 
eternal  mind.  Against  idle,  even  against  formal 
petitions  they  all  protest.  They  expect  nothing 
from  the  vain  mutterings  of  unhallowed  desire. 

The  '' pattering  "  of  prayers,  the  telling  of  beads 
they  have  no  patience  with.  A  recent  number  of 
the  Princeton  Review^  an  orthodox  periodical,  con- 
tains an  article  by  one  of  the  most  eminent  living 
preachers  of  New  York,  on  the  conditions  of  pre- 
vailing prayer.  These  conditions,  as  he  lays  them 
down,  are, — that  the  prayer  shall  be  offered  by 
men  who  are  in  their  lives  and  tempers  consecrated ; 
that  they  shall  be  offered  for  things  that  are  truly 
worth  having  by  the  individual,  and  are  vitally 
precious  to  society ;    and    that    the   petition   shall 


k 


have  in  view  the  dignity  of  the  Supreme  Being  to 
whom  it  is  offered.  The  man  who  prays  must  be 
consecrated,  pure  in  life,  simple,  sincere  and  earnest, 
willing  and  able  to  postpone  his  private  desires  to 
the  will  of  the  holiest  and  best.  His  prayer  must 
be  not  for  any  outward  perishable  things,  not  for 
any  personal  gift  or  private  advantage,  not  for 
wealth,  fame,  power,  or  temporal  emolument ;  it 
must  always  be  for  something  which  may  ennoble 
and  dignify  a  spiritual  or  rational  man,  always  for 
something  which  the  human  race  holds  dear.  And 
finally,  the  prayer  must  be  offered  in  the  spirit 
of  an  extreme  simplicity  and  sincerity,  and  in  a 
lowly  trust  that  the  being  to  whom  it  is  addressed 
is  infinitely  wise,  just  and  good — wise,  just  and 
good  enough  to  withhold  the  gift,  should  it  be 
harmful  or  unbecoming. 

Now  on  these  conditions,  it  is  easy  to  understand 
why  prayer  should  not  be  generally  or  frequently 
answered.  For,  how  many  times  in  the  whole,  long 
history  of  the  world,  has  prayer  been  offered  by 
perfectly  holy  men  and  women,  for  gifts  purely 
spiritual,  in  a  temper  perfectly  sincere  and  disinter- 
ested, and  in  a  spirit  of  utter  submission  to  the  will 
of  the  holiest  and  best?  How  many  petitions 
offered  during  the  past  week  of  prayer  were  of  that 
character?     It  is  safe  to  say  that  nine  hundred  and 


2IO 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


ninety-nine  prayers  out  of  every  thousand  deserve 
no  response  and,  in  truth,  condemn  the  asker. 
They  are  unanswered,  as  a  matter  of  course.  They 
are  but  idle  wind,  fooHsh  breath  flung  out  into  the 
bleak  and  wintry  air,  which  absorbs  them. 

Again,  given  these  conditions,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand how  genuine  prayer  should  be  answered. 
When  human  beings  in  a  spirit  of  perfect  consecra- 
tion, in  mood  entirely  simple  and  sincere  and  dis- 
interested, in  the  temper  of  lowly  trust,  of  entire 
submission,  ask  for  some  really  good  thing,  for 
health,  knowledge,  wisdom,  serenity,  patience,  an 
uplifted  and  devoted  spirit — will  not  such  supplica- 
tion be  granted  ?  Let  any  man  pray  with  all  his 
heart  and  life, — pray  all  over,  and  all  the  time,  for 
goodness,  intelligence,  reasonableness,  composure, 
fortitude,  power  to  forgive  his  enemies  and  bless  his 
friends,  will  not  that  prayer,  from  the  nature  of 
things,  be  granted?  Let  one  pray  in  this  manner 
for  wealth,  not  that  he  may  live  a  selfish,  idle  or 
luxurious  life,  but  that  he  may  bless  the  world  in 
which  he  lives; — let  him  in  this  spirit  pray  for  pow- 
er, not  that  he  may  exalt  himself  above  his  fellows, 
but  that  he  may  lift  the  lowliest  to  the  level  of 
something  higher  than  himself.  Will  not  such 
prayer  be  granted?  Of  course  it  will,  not  arbitrarily, 
but   in   accordance   with   the   conditions  of   nature. 


1 


4 


I 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


211 


But  who  prays   thus,  with   no  side  views,  with  no 
selfish  regards,  with  no  base  motives? 

So  much  we  must  affirm,  whatever  our  speculative 
belief,  whatever  our  dogmatic  opinions,  that  there  is 
an  unsounded,  an  unfathomable  abyss  of  power 
lying  outside  of  us  all ;  over  and  above  all  the 
strength  that  is  used,  the  mind  that  is  put  forth, 
the  will  that  is  exerted,  there  are  endless  and  bot- 
tomless spaces  of  possibility,  containing  the  pledge 
of  all  performance,  the  promise  of  all  the  future. 
We  think  of  the  earth  as  one  day  likely  to  be 
clothed  with  beauty  and  verdure.  The  desert  we 
say,  shall  *'  blossom  like  the  rose ; "  harvests  shall 
be  abundant  and  certain  ;  distribution  of  food  and 
every  material  good  shall  be  equitable  and  univer- 
sal. Drought  shall  no  more  distress;  blight  and 
mildew  shall  be  unknown  ;  the  farmer  shall  go  forth 
to  his  work  with  confident  anticipations  of  success 
according  to  industry.  But  when  this  time  shall 
come,  as  in  hundreds  or  thousands  of  years  perhaps 
it  will,  will  it  come  by  virtue  of  some  added  power 
in  the  soil?  No;  the  earth  will  be  the  same  earth 
that  it  is  now.  The  elements  will  have  the  same 
quality;  the  sunshine,  the  air,  the  rain,  will  still 
perform  the  same  old  (»ffices,  in  obedience  to  the 
same  law.  The  gain  will  be  in  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience of  their  use.     We  shall  understand  how  to 


212 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


employ  them.     The  resources  are  now  within  reach 
and  at  our  disposal ;  simply  we  are  at  a  loss  how  to 
appreciate    and    appropriate    them.       Do    we    not 
dream  of  a  time  when  the  individual  man  shall  be 
more  than   he  is  at  present,  firmer  in  health,  more 
evenly  and   harmoniously  developed,  more  sinewy 
in  frame,  more  complete  in  endowment,  in  feature, 
form,  accomplishment,  more  elastic,  enduring,  joy- 
ous, less   subject   to   disease,  less  liable   to  the  pros- 
trations   of    calamity,    less    fragile    and    tremulous 
under  the  disturbances  and  disappointments  of  his 
life?     Do   we   not   look  for  a  time  when   men  may 
live  longer  and  more  happily,  when  existence  shall 
be   reckoned  a  privilege   by  average  humanity?     If 
that  time  ever  comes,  how  will  it  come?     Not  by 
any  supernatural   gift   of  grace ;    not   by  any  fresh 
endowment  of  the  mortal  frame,  not  by  any  provi- 
dential increase  of  organic  capabilities.     The  physi- 
cal structure  will  be  essentially  unaltered  ;  the  tex- 
ture of  the  muscles,  the  sensibility  of  the  nerves  and 
tissues  will  still  be  identical  in  nature  with  what  it 
is  now.      Man's  relations  to  the  elements  outside  of 
him  will  be  precisely  the  same.      In  no  cardinal  re- 
spect will  man  be  different  from  what  he  is  at  pres- 
ent ;  simply  he  will  be  more   fully,  more  normally 
himself.      He  will   understand  himself   better;    he 
will  be  more  closely  and  intelligently  related  to  the 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


213 


i 


\ 


t 


organic  world  in  which  he  lives,  and  of  which  he  is 
a  constituent  part. 

The    ancient    Hebrews    portrayed    through    their 
prophets  a  future  age  of  glory  when  the  human  race 
would   make    for   itself,  under  the   guidance   of  Je- 
hovah,  a    Paradise   on   the    earth — a   "  kingdom  of 
Heaven,"   a  reign   of  Messiah  the   prince  of  peace  ; 
when    all   suffering  and   sorrow  should  cease ;  when 
fear,  and  doubt,  and  calamity,  should  be  at  an  end  ; 
when  a  divine  benignity  should  prevail  all  over  the 
earth  ;    when   the  weapons  of  war  should   be  laid 
down,  and  men  should  love  one  another.     Men  have 
dreamed  ever  since  that  time  of  a  golden  age  in  the 
future.     The  poets  of  Christendom  have  taken  up 
the  strain ;  and  in  our  best  literature  we  have  been 
encouraged  to  look  forward  to  an  age  when  slavery, 
and  war,  and   hopeless  poverty,   and    the  manifold 
calamities  and   crimes  of  men   shall   be  at  an  end. 
What  do  we  think  of  when   we  anticipate  such  a 
future?     That  there  is  to  be  a  new  race  of  men  on 
the  planet?     That   the   natural   and  social  relations 
of  men  are  to  be  reconstructed  ?    Not  at  all.    While 
the  world  lasts  the  same  economical  laws  will  hold. 
Sympathy  will  be  of  the  same  stuff,  and  the  respon- 
sibilities that  men  sustain  to  each  other  will  be  pre- 
cisely the  same  that    we   recognize   as   noble   and 
binding  to-day.      But    then,    men    will    understand 


214 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


them  enough  to  submit  to  them,  and  the  better 
society,  the  reign  of  perfect  love  will  come  in  by 
force  of  our  being  what  we  ought  to  be,  not  by  force 
of  our  being  something  else.  When  man  is  truly 
natural,  when  he  is  fairly  himself ;  when  the  latent 
capabilities  of  his  being  are  called  forth  ;  then  the 
world  will  be  regenerated. 

Now  let  us  advance  the  exposition  one  point  fur- 
ther. It  is  only  as  the  individual  strikes  in  with 
this  universal  force,  and  uses  these  vast  capabilities 
of  power  that  he  succeeds.  Take  the  familiar  illus- 
tration of  the  plant  in  a  flower-pot.  It  dries  up  in 
a  few  days,  the  leaves  loose  their  lustre,  the  bloom 
disappears  unless  an  aperture  be  made  in  the  bottom 
of  the  earthen  pot.  Through  that  aperture,  the 
frail  plant  communicates  with  the  central  sun,  with 
the  aerial  currents,  with  the  latent  elements  of  force 
in  the  ground,  with  the  waves  of  electric  energy 
which  are  forever  flowing  through  the  world.  Cut 
off  those  and  it  perishes.  In  alliance  with  those,  it 
lives  ;  for  through  this  tiny  opening  the  vital  cur- 
rents come  streaming  in  to  strengthen  and  beautify. 

We  preach  up  now  as  the  conditions  of  health, 
food,  raiment,  exercise,  air  and  light.  What  do  we 
mean  by  such  teaching?  We  mean  simply  this  :  in 
order  that  the  individual  may  attain  the  fulness  of  his 
organic  development,  may  enjoy  a  long  happy  use- 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


215 


ful  life,  he  must  be  in  constant  communication  with 
the  world  of  outward  forces.  His  food,  dress,  exer- 
cise in  the  open  air,  ventilation  and  sunning  of  his 
chamber  are  so  many  confessions  on  his  part,  that 
he  must  not  shut  himself  up,  that  he  must  not  cut 
himself  off,  that  he  must  not  consider  himself  a  nar- 
row, exclusive,  self-cultured  individual,  but  that  he 
must  open  the  doors  and  windows  just  as  far  as  he 
can  ;  and  put  himself  by  all  practical  means  in  com- 
munication with  the  strengthening  gladdening  power 
that  enriches  his  life.  That  is  what  is  signified  by 
obedience  to  the  laws  of  health.  The  practical 
efificacy  of  these  laws  lies  in  this,  and  just  as  soon 
as  one  is  negligent,  lives  a  narrow  indolent  and 
slothful  life,  shuts  himself  up  in  the  dark,  he  dies. 
He  has  not  earth  enough  to  strike  roots  in,  because 
every  living  creature  needs  the  universe  to  give  ful- 
ness of  life. 

What  prodigious  feats  of  power  the  feeblest  indi- 
vidual is  able  to  perform  when  these, — supernatural 
we  will  not  call  them, — these  natural  but  endless  pos- 
sibilities of  power  come  to  him,  under  the  pressure 
of  transient  excitement — it  may  be  of  fear,  or  of  love, 
or  of  hope,  stimulating  the  nervous  system.  The 
weak  woman  will  do  what  the  strong  man  is  un- 
equal to  on  ordinary  occasions.  The  frail  invalid 
will  lift  burdens  that  would  task  a  carrier's  strength. 


2  l6 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


The  bcd-riddcn  will  start  from  the  bed  where  he 
has  lain  for  months,  and  flee  for  his  life  from  fire  or 
violence.  When  our  civil  war  broke  out  it  found  us 
a  nation  of  business  men,  trading,  speculating,  selfish, 
plotting,  grasping.  The  higher  sentiments  seemed 
extinct  within  us,  so  much  so  that,  on  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  conflict,  it  was  confidently  predicted 
that  there  was  too  little  sympathy  among  the  peo- 
ple, too  little  patriotism,  public  spirit  or  humanity 
to  rally  the  North  against  the  aggressor.  Yet, 
what  was  the  experience?  Suddenly,  nobody  knew 
when,  nobody  knew  how,  a  current  of  sympathetic 
feeling  ran  from  state  to  state  throughout  our 
northern  communities.  Men,  all  at  once,  became 
conscious  of  larger  relations  and  breathed  a  more 
universal  life.  Dull  eyes  sparkled,  dumb  lips  be- 
came eloquent,  cold  hearts  throbbed  ;  feeble  hands 
were  lifted  ;  the  avaricious  poured  out  their  money ; 
the  affectionate  sent  their  sons  to  the  front ;  those 
who  had  lived  alone  in  closets  came  out  and  volun- 
teered their  services  for  the  campaign.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  to  look  on.  We  saw  men  who  were 
thought  puny,  meagre,  cowardly,  dry  as  dust,  start 
up  into  heroic  proportions.  The  war  over,  the 
strain  relaxed,  the  excitement  ended,  the  grand 
forms  shrunk  to  their  former  dimensions.  The 
heroes  became  speculators.     The  patriots  repaired 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


217 


in  haste  to  the  gold  room.  A  spirit  of  greed,  sharp- 
visaged  and  eager,  narrow  and  inhuman,  took  pos- 
session of  the  very  people  who  had  burned  like 
seraphs  for  four  years.  The  explanation  lies  on  the 
surface.  The  bond  of  communion  with  the  soul  of 
progress,  with  the  genius  of  the  future,  with  the 
creative  spirit  of  the  time  was  broken  ;  the  individu- 
als had  fallen  back  within  their  limits,  had  lost 
their  connection  with  the  overflowing  springs  of 
life ;  the  resources  of  possibility  had  been  shut  off. 

The  prodigious  phenomenon  of  the  crusades  in 
the  middle  ages  illustrates  the  same  principle. 
Europe  lay  supine.  They  were  not  inappropriately 
called  the  **  dark  ages." — Poor,  disabled,  morally 
blind  and  speechless,  the  populations  clung  to  the 
soil  and  perished  there.  All  at  once,  the  vision 
broke  upon  them  of  a  vast  undeveloped  Asia,  held 
by  the  Musselman  and  trodden  by  the  infidel ;  at 
the  call  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  Europe  started  to  its 
feet  and  thousands  on  thousands  of  men  straggled 
across  the  continent,  and  fed  the  soil  of  Asia  with 
their  carcasses  under  the  glow  of  a  wild  enthusiasm. 

How  little,  after  all,  is  accomplished  voluntarily 
by  distinct  and  proposed  effort  of  the  will !  How 
little  of  the  success  that  is  achieved  in  the  world,  is 
brought  to  pass  by  what  we  aim  at  and  intend  ! 
How  much  is  brought  to  pass  by  the  silent  invisible 


2l8 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


laws  which  mass  communities  together,  and  set  in 
motion  ocean  waves  of  might ! 

We  hear  a  great  deal  in  these  days  about  uncon- 
scious cerebration — in  plain  language,  the  working 
of  the  brain  when  the  intention  to  work  is  suspend- 
ed. All  know  what  this  experience  is.  The  think- 
er has  a  problem  that  he  is  exercised  to  solve — a 
problem  in  philosophy,  in  mathematics,  in  finance. 
He  labors  at  it  until  his  conception  is  confused  ; 
the  more  he  tries  to  solve  it,  the  more  perplexing 
and  hopeless  it  is.  He  gives  it  up  and  goes  to 
sleep.  While  physically  exhausted,  the  latent  force 
of  the  brain  stimulated  by  the  efforts  that  have 
been  made  in  the  day  time,  carries  on  the  pro- 
cess uninterrupted  by  outward  disturbances. ;  un- 
embarrassed by  the  impertinence  of  the  will,  the 
problem  is  solved.  He  wakes  and  the  task  is  done, 
as  in  the  fairy  tale,  the  poor  girl  after  toiling  and 
crying  over  the  pile  of  flax  which  she  was  command- 
ed to  spin,  falls  asleep  over  her  labor,  and  wakes 
to  find  that  the  kind  fairies  have  finished  her  task 
for  her.  The  poet  Coleridge  wrote  one  of  his  most 
imaginative  pieces  under  similar  circumstances; 
and  many  and  many  a  time  the  men  who  have 
worked  at  the  hardest  problems  have  found  that 
reason  could  solve  the  difficulty  when  the  intellect 
desisted  and  retired. 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


219 


In  the  morning,  before  going  to  their  work,  men 
put  themselves  into  communication  with  the  crea- 
tive  powers   of  the   world,   by   the   food   they   eat. 
They  assimilate  food  :    the  vital  organs,  never  ask- 
ing whether  they  may  or  shall  be   permitted   to  act, 
fall  upon  it  and  turn   it  into  blood  and  tissue,     The 
lungs  expand  and  contract,  the  arteries  purify  the 
blood   and    pour    it    through    the    channels    of   the 
venous  system.     The   veins  and  capillaries  take  it 
up,  carry  it  to  all  the  extremities  of  the  skin.     In 
the   strength   of  that   food   the   workers  go   on  for 
hours  laboring  at  mechanical  tasks,  doing  miscella- 
neous   business,    inventing,  discovering,  trafficking, 
never  bestowing  a  thought  on  the  wonderful  pro- 
cesses which  are  going  on  inside  of  them  ;  and  yet, 
there  is  the  central  sun,  and  the  laws  of  gravitation, 
and  the  principles  of  mechanics,  and  all  the  proper- 
ties of  organic  life  busy  until  the  resources  of  their 
action  have  been  expended,  and  the  tired  laborer 
takes  in  more  food. 

The  skipper  sails  his  vessel  out  on  the  sea.  The 
winds  are  against  him  and  the  tide.  The  sailors 
strain  at  the  ropes.  The  captain  shouts  through 
his  trumpet.  The  rigging  is  torn  to  shreds.  He 
beats  aimlessly  about  until  he  strikes  the  trade 
winds,  or  the  gulf  stream  ;  then  the  work  is  done. 
His  vessel  goes  on  and  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  let  it 


220 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


go.  The  men  lie  listlessly  about  the  deck.  The 
captain  plays  cards,  or  reads  novels,  or  examines  his 
charts  in  the  cabin.  He  is  sure  that  the  trade  wind, 
that  sweeps  around  the  planet,  will  carry  him  to  the 
end  of  his  course. 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  aeronauts  of  the 
century  holds  the  theory  that  a  current  of  air 
steadily  sets  around  the  globe,  by  which,  if  the  bal- 
loonist shall  strike  it,  shall  understand  its  laws  and 
comply  with  its  conditions,  he  shall  be  carried  with- 
out fail  from  continent  to  continent ;  for  the  current, 
started  and  sustained  as  it  is  by  the  rotation  of  the 
crlobe  on  its  axis,  never  diminishes  in  force  or 
swerves  in  direction. 

Have  we  never  observed  how,  when  any  great 
thing  is  done  it  is  done  by  the  sudden  influx  of  this 
unused  potential  force?  Take  any  great  move- 
ment ;  the  movement  in  England  for  the  abolition 
of  the  slave  trade  ;  the  movement  for  the  abrogation 
of  the  corn  laws ;  the  movement  here  for  the  exter- 
mination of  American  slavery.  Such  movements 
have  a  universal  character.  They  are  comprehen- 
hensive  and  wide  of  sweep.  No  individual  origin- 
ates or  controls  them.  No  single  man,  no  school 
or  party  of  men  animate  or  propel  them.  They 
express  the  need  and  impulse  of  a  generation. 
They  are    pulsations    in    the  progress   of  mankind. 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


221 


They  are  mile-stones  on  the  high  way  of  evolution. 
The  men  whom  they  possess  and  inspire  are  called 
'^ providential"  men,  men  of  the  hour,  sent  of  God. 
The  old  problem  perpetually  comes  up,  does  the 
progress  of  the   world  depend  on  the  energy  of  in- 
dividuals  or  on   the  momentum   of  the  multitude? 
—Does  the  age  make  the  man,  or  the  man  create 
the    age  ?     The    proverbial    phrase  ''  the    hour  and 
the   man,"   suggests   the   problem   and   the   answer. 
Does  the  hour  call  into  existence  the  leader,  or  does 
the  leader  give  providential  character  to  the  hour? 
It  seems  at  first  as  if  individuals  did  every  thing. 
Colossal  figures  loom  up  from  time  to  time  at  inter- 
vals,   along    the    expanse    of    history.       Napoleon, 
Elizabeth,     WyclifTe,     Huss,     Savonarola,     Luther, 
Henry  VHL,  Mahomet,  Pompilius,  Zoroaster,  Con- 
fucius,   Moses,— they  stand  up  like  gigantic  monu- 
ments in   the  desert,   uttering  oracles  for  all  time. 
There  seems  to  radiate  from  each  of  them  a  power 
that   recreates   the  world   of  their  day.     So  deeply 
impaired   is  the    faith  in  individual    genius,    in  the 
mission  of  providential  men,  in   special  revelations 
made  to   individuals,   that    men    build    temples    to 
them,    worship    them,    call     them     demigods,    date 
epochs  of  chronology  from  their  birth,  and  ascribe 
to  them  vast  revolutions  in  civilization  and  religion. 
Yet  the  science  of  history  tells  us,  as  we  are  able  to 


222 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


read  it  now,  that  such   individuals  would  have  been 
nothing,    would    have    done    nothing,    would    have 
been  in  fact  unknown  but  for  this  mass  of  life  about 
them,  but  for  the  wave  that  swept  through  the  cen- 
tury to  which    they   were   assigned,   as  the   freshet 
bears  on  its  bosom  the   rocks  and   trees  that  lie  in 
its  range.     It  was  the  sunbeam  that  made  the  Men- 
non  sing.      To   us,  history  is    science,   as   truly  as 
physiology  or  philology  is  ;   the  development  of  the 
race   is  carried   on  by  general  laws :  a  beautiful,  yet 
awful  necessity  runs  through  the  ages,  stringing  the 
tienerations  of   men   on    an    iron    thread.      Modern 
philosophy  teaches  that  nothing  comes  by  chance  ; 
that  there  is  nothing  accidental ;  that  the  individual 
can  do  but  little  of  his  personal  will ;  that  the  great- 
est genius  has  a  short  tether ;  that  free  will  is  lim- 
ited by  material  and  psychological  conditions.     The 
greatest  men  have  even  confessed  this.     They  call 
themselves  children   of   destiny— scourges,   messen- 
gers, avengers,  prophets  of  God. 

For  observe,  that,  wherever  the  individual  has 
pushed  against  the  age,  he  has  gone  down.  There 
was  probably  no  grander  person  living  than  John 
Huss.  A  man  of  greater  courage,  purer  life,  more 
devoted  character,  than  he,  it  will  on  the  whole  be 
hard  to  find.  He  stood  almost  alone  in  his  genera- 
tion.    He  had  the  ecclesiastical  world  against  him. 


J  HE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


223 


Savonarola  was  to  my  apprehension  one  of  the  most 
glorious  souls  that  modern  history  can  show ;  a 
greater  man,  in  some  respects,  than  Luther,  a  man 
of  more  intellect,  more  consecration,  larger  human 
sympathy,  a  man  who  was  capable  of  entertaining 
the  idea  of  revolutionizing  his  age.  Yet,  Savanaro- 
la  with  all  his  learning,  his  burning  eloquence,  his 
consecrated  heart,  his  devoted  will,  had  against  him 
the  powers  of  his  time,  an  atheistic  Pope,  kings 
who  were  worldly,  people  who  were  superstitious, 
credulous  and  ignorant.  He  did  his  very  best ;  and 
he  gave  his  life.  But  to  no  end.  He  was  burned 
at  the  stake.  His  vessel  was  floating  on  a  wild 
ocean  where  there  was  nothing  but  head  wind  and 
storm.  The  tempest  descended  upon  him  ;  he  was 
drowned. 

Luther  came  and  found  everything  ready  for  him. 
The  great  lights  who  had  gone  before  had  cleared 
up  the  darkness.  The  power  of  the  renaissance  that 
was  regenerating  Europe,  by  releasing  it  from  Ro- 
man Catholic  thraldom,  was  felt  throughout  so- 
ciety. Men  were  thinking,  surmising,  doubting, 
studying,  asking  questions  and  answ^ering  them. 
The  great  universities  were  full  of  heresy ;  so  that 
when  Luther  appeared,  instantly  one-half  of  Europe 
was  on  his  side.  The  thirty  years  war  showed  that 
a  great   portion   of   Europe  was  ready  to  take  up 


224 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


arms  in  his  cause.  The  common  printers  of  Ger- 
many, poor  men,  men  living  on  their  daily  toil, 
hastened  to  issue  his  words ;  the  priests  could  not 
induce  them,  could  not  bribe  them,  to  print  their 
answers.  This  was  the  way  that  Luther  succeeded. 
It  was  not  Luther  that  made  the  Reformation,  it 
was  the  age  that  bore  him  as  a  child  in  its  bosom. 
Luther  was  not  burned  ;  he  would  have  been,  but 
the  burning  power  was  in  the  minority.  A  king 
was  his  friend.  The  castle  was  not  shut  against 
him,  but  afforded  him  hospitality.  His  words  ran 
very  swiftly,  for  the  age  in  which  he  lived  was  full 
of  the  protesting  spirit.  The  unsounded  possibili- 
ties overruled  opposition  and  gave  silent  aid.  The 
supreme  and  unused  powers  came  to  his  rescue. 
He  was  an  instrument,  a  voice  in  the  wilderness  ; 
but  it  was  a  wilderness  whose  very  sands  were 
musical,  whose  very  rocks  had  ears  and  voices. 

So  it  always  is.  Put  your::elf  in  concurrence  with 
the  best  spirit  of  the  age  ;  put  yourself  in  concur- 
rence with  the  highest  sentiments,  with  live  princi- 
ples;  make  your  own  something  that  interests  the 
men  with  whom  you  live,  and  your  success  is  cer- 
tain. Go  against  the  current,  no  matter  how  strong 
you  are,  how  bright  your  genius,  how  pure  your 
heart,  how  masterful  your  intellect,  you  are  as 
a   weed    on    the   surface    of   the   ocean.      You  are 


rHE    OFFICE    OF    I>RAVER. 


22: 


carried  away   as   by  a   flood.     You  are   as  a  sleep. 
In  this  philosophy  we  have  the  secret  of  prayer. 
The  ofifice  of  prayer  is  to  put  the  individual  in  con- 
currence  with   the   universal ;  to  enable  the  person, 
the  separate  man  or  woman  to  become  receptive  of 
these   awful   powers,  that   are   ready  to  shelter  him 
and  to  bear  him  on  triumphantly.      It  is  a  necessity 
with  everyone  who  wishes  to  live  a  great  life,  with 
everyone  who  wishes  for  happiness,  power,  success, 
in  any  high  measure  that  he  should  have  faith,  vital 
faith    in    this    unused    capacity,    in    these    universal 
laws,  in  the  realm  of  ideas,  in  the  universe  of  princi- 
ples.    It  is    not  necessary    that    he  should   confess 
his   faith   in   words.     He   need  not   insist   on  being 
technically  a  religious  man.    He  need  not  be,  in  the 
cant  phrase,  a  man  of  prayer,  a  church  member,  an 
orthodox  believer.     It  is  not  at  all  necessary  that 
he  belong  to  a  church,  that  he  recite  the  catechism, 
that    he  profess  the   article.       But   he    must    have, 
whatever  he   calls  himself,  a  faith  that   outside  of 
him  is  a  realm  of  truth  that  he  has  never  discovered, 
of  goodness  he  has  never  sought  for,  of  love  he  has 
never  dreamed  of ;  and  that  here  are  the  regenerat- 
ing powers.     Moreover,  he  must  have  faith  that  he 
himself,  by  virtue   of  the  vitality   of  his  heart,  the 
earnestness  of  his  will,  the  light  of  his  intellect  can 
put  himself  in  concurrence  with  this  overwhelming 


226 


THK    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER, 


force.     Call  it  what  you  will,— God,  Providence,  the 
Unknown  and  Unknowable;  call  it,  as  Matthew  Ar- 
nold does,  the  *'  power  outside  of  us  that  works  for 
righteousness;"  call   it  the  ''stream  of  tendency," 
leaving  out  the  word  ri<^hteousness  ;  call  it  the  realm 
of  possibility,  call  it  what  you  will,  //  ts  there.    Your 
calline  it  God   does   not   make  it  divine.     Your  de- 
nying  the  definition   or  existence  of  God  does  not 
take  away  its  virtue.     Be  you  theist  or  be  you  athe- 
ist, be  you  trinitarian  or  unitarian,  be  you  spiritual- 
ist  or   materialist— ///m-  //  is.     It  does  not  depend 
upon   your   definition.     It  is  there  just  as  much  for 
the  atheist  as   for  the  theist;  just  as  much  for  the 
materialist  as  for  the  spiritualist ;  just  as  much   for 
the  Turk  as  for  the  Christian.    //  is  the  unused  might 
of  possibility.      The    mistake    that    the    materialist 
makes,  that  the  atheist  makes,  is  in  thinking  that  it 
is  not  there,  because  his  definition  seems  to  exclude 
it,  and  he  does  not  seek  it  because  he  does  not  be- 
lieve in  it  after  the  ecclesiastical  fashion.     Here  I  re- 
peat, is   the   cardinal  mistake  of  the  rationalist,  the 
atheist,  the    materialist,   the   man    of    science,  that 
frightened  by  a  definition,  he  does  not  put  himself 
deliberately  and  vitally  into  communication  with  the 
eternal  laws.     I  have  as  much   right  to  pray,  to  as- 
pire, to  hunger,  to  dream  of  possibilities,  to  lift  my- 
self up  by  the  help  of  fathomless  intelligence  as  my 


THE    OFFICE    OF    PRAYER. 


22 


orthodox  neighbor  has.  The  week  of  prayer  is 
nothing  to  me;  it  is  everything  to  him;  but  the 
power  outside  of  me  that  takes  me  up,  is  light  in 
darkness,  is  strength  in  weakness,  to  nie  as  it  is  to 
him. 

Let  us  all  believe  that  there  is  this  power,  but  let 
us  be  mindful  to  believe  that  the  conditions  are  the 
same  old  conditions.  No  idle,  no  careless,  heart- 
less straggler  or  wanderer  over  existence  has  a 
right  to  think  that  anything  will  come  to  him.  If 
he  fails  he  earns  his  failure.  If  he  is  prostrated  by 
calamity  he  merits  to  be  prostrated.  If  he  starves 
let  him  starve.  There  is  food  enough  for  all  the 
world  if  one  will  care  to  earn  it.  If  one  does  not 
care  to  earn  it,  then  he  must  share  the  lot  of  those 

who  do  not  eat.     The  conditions  are  inexorable 

the  same  conditions  that   Dr.  Taylor  lays  down   for 
the   orthodox   answer   to    prayer  are   the   same   we 
must  cling  to.     Only  the  earnest,  the  consecrated, 
the  devoted  man  can  venture  to  ask  anything  of  the 
supreme  power  ;  only  the  man  who  lays  his  private 
passions   by,  forgets   his   heat,  dismisses   his   ano-er 
forsakes   his  greed,   asks   nothing    for   himself,   but 
asks  the  things  that  everybody  needs,  can  dare  to 
pray.     And   nobody  can   dare  to  aspire  who  is  not 
willing  that  the  supreme  will  should  be  done  with 
him  as  well  as  with  all  the  world. 


THE  AMERICAN  GENTLEMAN. 


I  spoke  last  Sunday  on  the  subject  of  humanity  ; 
what  it  was  in  its  constituent  elements  and  what 
the  possession  of  it  implied.  This  morning  I  pro- 
pose to  say  something  about  the  crowning  grace  of 
this  humanity  which  is  gentlemanliness.  The  gen- 
tleman is  the  perfect  man. 

An  old   English  dramatist  of  the   17th   century, 
Thomas  Dekker,  wrote  these  lines : 

"  The  best  of  men 
That   e'er  wore  earth  about   him,  was  a  sufferer; 
A  soft,  meek,  patient,  humble,   tranquil    spirit, 
The  first  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed." 

The  allusion  was  to  Jesus,  fitly  called  gentleman 
from  his  gentleness.  The  word  '^  gentle  "  in  old 
English  speech  is  equivalent  to  noble.  It  comes 
from  the  Latin  word  gens,  which  means  a  family,  a 
tribe,  a  stock.  The  gentleman,  therefore,  to  speak 
strictly,  is  the  man  of  family. 

Something  more  than  a  year  ago  in  the  old  city 
of  Worcester,  in  England,  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Royal 


230 


THE    AMERICAN    (lENTLEMAN, 


Porcelain  Works  there,  and  as  the  superintendent 
took  me  through  the  various  rooms  where  the  arti- 
sans were  at  work  at  their  several  branches  of 
manufacture  and  decoration,  modelling,  molding, 
designing,  painting  landscape,  human  beings,  cattle, 
ornamenting,  gilding— he  said  "  these  gentlemen  " 
are  doing  this  or  that  ;  "  these  ladies  "  are  doing 
that  or  this.  Note  the  immense  distance  between 
these  two  conceptions  of  the  gentleman.  The  old 
dramatist,  in  monarchical  England,  by  gentleness 
means  the  highest  quality  that  adorns  humanity. 
The  gentleman  is  Saint  and  Savior.  The  superin- 
tendent of  the  Royal  Porcelain  Works  at  Worcester, 
in  a  democratic  age,  bestows  the  title  on  common 
artisans  whose  simple  distinction  is  that  they  have 
the  human  form,  thus  erasing  lines  of  difference  in 

character. 

The  word  gentlemen  is  English,  the  idea  too  is 
English.  One  of  the  most  eminent  and  brilliant  of 
modern  literary  men,  a  Frenchman,  tells  us  that, 
out  of  England,  there  is  nothing  resembling  the 
type  of  the  gentleman.  In  France  there  are  nobles, 
or  rather  there  were  ;  men  of  exquisite  refinement 
and  delicacy,  elegant,  polite,  chivalrous,  liberal, 
brave,  creatures  of  an  aristocratic  system,  types  of 
a  class  once  rich  and  powerful,  now  antiquated  and 
obsolete,  ornamental  parasites,  curious  as  relics,  but 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN, 


231 


without  influence  or  significance  in  church,  state,  or 
social  life;  outside   of  the   world  of  affairs,  uninter- 
ested in  the   questions   of  the  age,  only  serving  to 
keep   in   remembrance  a   condition   of  things,    the 
very  remembrance  whereof  is  exasperating.     They 
assist   progress   by   making  the  past  odious.      They 
help  the  new  order  by  showing  the  absurdity  of  the 
old.       In  an  age  of  thinkers  and  workers,  the  age  of 
Comte  and   the  Commune,   they  arc  out   of  place. 
The    English  gentlemen   on   the  other   hand,   says 
the   writer    above     mentioned,    Mr.    Taine,    ''have 
kept  up  their  communication  with  the  people,  have 
opened  their  ranks  to  men  of  talent,  have  taken  re- 
cruits   from    the    untitled,  have     made    themselves 
persons   of    influence  and    command,    potential    in 
church  and  state.       They  have  been  administrators, 
patrons,  promoters  of  reform,  managers,  enlightened, 
independent,  capable  men,  the   most  useful  citizens 
of  the  country." 

Let  us  analize  this  conception  of  the  Gentleman. 
In  the  first  place  it  implies  in  England  what  is 
called  a  material  basis.  The  gentleman  may  not  be 
himself  wealthy.  He  may  on  the  contrary  be  poor. 
He  may  be  an  outcast  from  elegant  society.  He 
may  be  an  exile  from  his  native  land,  of  no  account 
in  the  world  of  affairs.  He  may  be  distinguished 
by  no  outward   badge  of  affluence  or  dignity.     Yet, 


232 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN 


if  not   wealthy    himself,    he  has   associations  with 
wealth.     If  not  high  in  social  position,  he  is  able  to 
look  back  to  ancestors  who  were.     The  blood  of  the 
noble  is  in  his  veins.     If   not  a  present  force  in  the 
community,   he  has  traditions    of    fore-fathers  who 
were  eminent  for  conduct  and  character.     He  is  pre- 
sumed to  be  on  a  good  understanding  with   circum- 
stances,  on   good    terms   with   the   ruling    powers. 
He    feels    that   he  belongs   to  the   best  which   the 
material  universe  has  to  give.     He  has  a  feeling  of 
being  at  home   among  prosperous  and    controlling 
people.      When    he    sees   a    fine    house,    extensive 
lands,   he   feels    that  they   belong  some  how  to   the 
like  of  him  ;  and  when   he   sees  a  person  who  has 
mastered   fate  and   fortune,  he  feels  that  he  is  the 
brother  of  that  person,  kindred  with  him.    Poor,  he 
may  be  ;  yet  he  can  never  be  abject.      For  the  gen- 
tleman   always  remembers  that  he  is  one  of   the 
adopted  sons  of  nature,  that  the  world  is  his  patri- 
mony, whether  he  enjoys  it,  uses  it,  or  not.     This  is 
a  cardinal  element  in  the  English  idea  of  the  gentle- 
man.     It    is   an    element    in    his    mental    consti- 
tution, in  his  moral  sentiment.      You  never  see   a 
gentleman,  however  poor  he   may  be  himself,  who 
will  own  that  poverty  is  part   or   lot  of  his  nature. 
He    does   not  class  himself  among   the    impotent. 
This  peculiarity  is  an  inheritance  from  feudal   insti- 
tutions. 


rHE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


233 


Again,  to  ascend  to  a  higher  and  broader  plane, 
the  gentleman  is  presumed  to  have  mind — a  quick, 
active,  aggressive  intelligence.  If  not  educated,  he 
has  a  live  understanding.  The  dunce  may  come  of 
a  gentlemanly  lineage,  but  he  cannot  fill  the  part  of 
a  gentleman.  The  idler  who  never  asks  a  question, 
and  never  cares  about  vital  concerns  or  living  inter- 
ests, may  wear  the  dress  of  a  gentleman  and  imitate 
the  manners ;  a  gentleman  of  repute  and  of  re- 
spectability he  cannot  be.  It  goes  first  and  last 
with  the  character  of  a  gentleman,  that  he  is  intelli- 
gent, that  he  thinks,  inquires,  has  a  place  in  the 
intellectual  world.  He  mav  not  be  controlling  or 
eminent  there  ;  he  may  not  be  successful  in  execu- 
tive ways ;  still  his  mind  is  alive  on  the  issues  that 
interest  thoughtful  people. 

Let  me  say  further  that  he  is  a  PERSON,  con- 
scious of  that  grand  fact  of  individuality  which  is 
so  weighty  in  character.  He  counts  for  one.  He 
is  sensible  of  an  interior,  inviolate  and  invaluable 
dignity.  When  he  gives  his  hand,  he  gives  the 
hand  of  a  man  ;  he  gives  himself :  he  pledges  him- 
self; he  pledges  his  character.  With  it  goes  his 
heart.  When  he  plights  his  word,  he  weights  it 
with  all  the  sanctity  of  his  conscience.  There 
needs  no  oath  to  fortify  it.  If  he  makes  a  promise, 
he  keeps  it  let  it  cost  what  it  may,  in  money,  incon- 


234 


THE    AMKRICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


venience,  service.  If  he  makes  an  engagement,  he 
keeps  it  to  the  spirit,  as  well  as  to  the  letter,  bring- 
ing along  with  his  presence  his  full  ability  and 
character.  That  holiest  of  all  words  in  the  English 
language,  "  honor,"  belongs  to  him.  He  alone  can 
speak  it,  because,  he  alone  knows  the  full  measure 
of  its  significance.  Whether  fortune  has  cast  him 
in  one  lot  or  another,  whether  one  kind  of  condi- 
tions or  circumstances  or  another  is  appointed 
for  him,  he  is  always  himself.  He  cannot  lie,  he 
cannot  cheat  ;  he  cannot  steal ;  he  cannot  de- 
fraud. If  he  be  a  common  artisan,  a  merchant, 
an  artist,  a  politician,  a  financier,  no  matter  what, 
where  he  is,  Jic  is^  a  man.  He  is  the  possessor  and 
the  incarnation  of  an  immortal  dignity,  of  a  power 
that  is  not  to  be  challenged  by  anyone  less  than 
the  Almighty.  His  chief  concern  lies  between  him- 
self and  his  God. 

There  is  one  cardinal  element  more  to  be  men- 
tioned,— the  element  of  HEART.  The  gentleman 
is  a  man  of  heart.  He  has  a  clear,  wide,  cordial 
human  sympathy.  He  respects  himself;  he  respects 
his  kind  ;  he  respects  humanity  in  every  man,  in 
every  woman.  He  goes  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
lot,  behind  circumstance  and  condition,  and  discerns 
the  manlijiess  the  womanliness  in  the  human  crea- 
ture.    He  confesses  his  accountability  to  mankind. 


JHE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


■JO 


There  are  two  stories  that  come  to  us  out  of 
English  history,  which  describe  this  quality 
more  beautifully  and  touchingly  than  any  words 
can  do.  In  the  fourteenth  century  Edward  the 
Black  Prince,  with  an  army  of  twelve  thousand 
men  beat  King  John  of  France,  with  an  army  of 
sixty  thousand,  at  the  famous  battle  of  Poitiers. 
The  valor  of  the  English  soldiers  and  the  heroic 
leadership  of  their  prince  gained  this  astonishing, 
this  all  but  miraculous  victory.  Edward  at  once 
went  to  the  captive  king,  put  himself  at  his  dis- 
posal, condoled  with  him  on  his  misfortune,  took 
no  credit  for  his  victory  to  himself,  but  ascribed  it 
to  that  mysterious  providence  that  orders  human 
affairs,  offered  the  prostrate  monarch  every  comfort 
he  could  command,  and  when  he  rode  with  him  in 
triumph  into  London,  placed  his  royal  captive  on  a 
splendid  white  steed  and  rode  himself  by  his  side 
on  a  humble  palfrey.  None  but  an  English  gentle- 
man could  have  done  that. 

At  the  battle  of  Zutphen,  Sir  Philip  Sidney  the 
peerless  knight,  two  horses  having  been  slain  under 
him,  when  about  to  mount  the  third  was  shot  in 
the  thigh.  He  was  more  than  a  mile  from  his 
camp,  and  was  obliged  to  limp  that  distance  to 
his  tent.  On  reaching  the  tent,  exhausted  and  in 
agony,  he  feebly  called  for  water.     It.  was  brought 


236 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


to  him.  As  he  was  about  to  put  the  flask  to  his 
mouth,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  common  soldier  lying  a 
few  yards  off  on  the  ground,  his  pale  face  and  dying 
eyes  turned  beseechingly  towards  the  refreshing 
draught.  Sidney  put  it  by  untouched,  and  said, 
*'  Give  the  water  to  him  ;  his  necessities  are  greater 
than  mine."  Sixteen  days  after  that  the  noble 
Sidney  died,  in  the  flower  of  his  life,  leaving  a 
name  for  heroic  gentleness,  for  manly  courage  and 
delicacy,  that  will  live  as  long  as  the  word  gentle- 
man preserves  its  signfficance. 

Gentleness,  therefore,  you  perceive,  has  a  human 
basis.  It  is  built  on  human  attributes.  It  implies 
a  human  nature,  a  sincere  recognition  of  the  claims 
of  human  kind. 

I  have  described  the  English  gentlemen.  Now 
we  come  to  speak  of  the  American  gentleman. 
To  be  intelligent  here,  we  must  take  humanity  as 
it  stands  in  the  American  estimate.  Our  human 
basis  must  not  be  German,  or  French,  or  English, 
but  in  the  strictest  sense  American.  The  American 
estimate  of  humanity  is  peculiar.  Here  there 
are  no  orders,  no  class  distinctions,  no  outward 
badges  of  difference.  There  is  but  one  law  and 
standard  for  all  men, — a  law  that  is  as  just,  equit- 
able, humane  as  society  is  at  present  able  to  make 
it.     One   law,  civil  and   moral,  for  the  rich  and  for 


THE    AxMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


-?  t  " 


the  poor;  one  law  for  the  well-born  and  for  the  ill- 
born.  The  only  differences  that  are  recognized, 
theoretically  at  least,  in  America  between  men,  are 
differences  in  character,  rank  in  attainment,  emi- 
nence in  mind  and  quality,  grades  in  the  attributes 
that  men  possess.  In  view  of  this  fact,  the  Ameri- 
can  gentleman  must  be  as  much  more  than  the 
French  or  the  English,  as  his  basis  of  humanity  is 
broader  and  more  comprehensive  than  theirs.  He 
must  build  not  upon  the  humanity  of  a  class,. of  an 
order,  a  section,  a  clique,  a  family,  but  upon  the  hu- 
manity that  is  common  to  all  men  of  whatever 
class  or  condition. 

Here  is  a  responsibility  imposed  upon  the  Ameri- 
can   gentleman,  which   never  has  been  imposed  in 
the  history  of  European  or  Asiatic.     In  the  city  of 
Washington,  to  illustrate  by  a  figure,  there  stands 
a  monument,  or  the  beginning  of  a  monument,  des- 
tined to  commemorate  the   father  of   his  country. 
It  is  unfinished  because  it  cannot  be  finished  accord- 
ing to  any  conventional  design.     Built  upon  a  broad 
basis  suitable  to  the  imagination  and  aspiration  of 
the  American  people,  and  to  the  grandeur  of  con- 
ception in  the   founder  of  American  institutions,   it 
cannot  be  completed  according  to  any  idea  that  the 
old  w^orld  can  suggest.     Would  we  carry  it  up  as  an 
Egyptian   obelisk?     Its    point  will    be    lost    in    the 


238 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEiMAN. 


clouds.  Would  we  set  upon  the  top  of  it,  as  it 
stands  now,  the  present  structure  being  used  as 
pedestal,  a  colossal  figure  of  Washington  ?  It  must 
be  a  hundred  feet  high  in  order  to  be  in  proportion. 
Will  you  plant  an  equestrian  statue  there?  You 
must  use  a  spy-glass  to  see  the  horse.  If  we  insist 
on  building  a  monument  upon  a  base  so  broad, 
our  whole  design  for  the  work  must  be  new. 
While  we  consult  the  old  architectural  principles 
founded  upon  the  cardinal  basis  of  law  which  is 
universal  in  the  whole  material  creation,  we  must 
build  according  to  a  conception  which  is  adequate 
to  the  case  in  hand.  Therefore,  pull  down  the 
beginning  of  the  monument,  and  make  a  new 
erection  on  a  new  design,  which  shall  be,  not 
Egyptian  or  Greek,  not  German,  French  or  English, 
but  American, — original  with  ourselves. 

So  with  this  conception  of  the  American  gentle- 
man. Build  it  on  a  basis  as  broad,  as  pure,  as  cardi- 
nal, as  the  American  idea.  We  must  not  be  content 
with  a  parlor  ornament,  with  an  elegant  figure  of 
bronze  or  porcelain  or  parian  which  we  can  put  on 
a  centre  table,  or  set  up  to  adorn  a  mantel ;  we  must 
construct  a  character  so  stately  in  its  proportions, 
so  harmonious,  so  firm  and  dignified  and  sweet,  that 
it  shall  justify  its  beginning. 

What  then  are  we  to  consider  as  being  the  essen- 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


■39 


tial  elements  in  such  a  character  ?    What   shall   the 
American  gentleman  be  like?  Conceding  that  some 
sort  of  material  basis  is  necessary  to  the  gentleman, 
under  whatever  aspect  regarded,   let    us  admit   that 
the  American  gentleman  must  have  a  material  basis 
also.     But  it   need   not  be   wealth  or  traditions  of 
wealth,  associations  with  opulent  people  in  the  past. 
In  place  of  this,  it  is  enough  that  there  be  sympathy 
with  that  honest  labor  which   is   the   creator   of    all 
wealth.     He  will  not  be  ashamed  of  toil,  or  of    the 
company  of  them  that  toil.     His  hands  will  not  be 
too  fine  to  be  put  to  the  plow  if   necessary,   to   the 
wheel  or  to  the   hammer.      He    respects   the   labor, 
the  sincere  toil  of  hands,  or  head,  of  heart  or  will  by 
which  wealth   is  created.      He  does  not  side  with 
capital  against  labor,  for  capital   is  nothing  but  ac- 
cumulated labor ;  and  all  the  capital  in  this  country 
is   liable   to  diminution     and     waste;     it     changes 
hands  ;     it  passes  away  with  shifting  values  ;     it  be- 
comes divided  and  sub-divided  among  many  heirs. 
There  is   no    inalienable   wealth  in  landed   estates. 
There  are  no  districts  that  can  never  be   sequestra- 
ted.    But  labor,  that  which   creates  wealth,   which 
has  all  wealth  in  possibility,  that  exists  through  all 
days,    is      the     common     heritage,     the    universal 
lot,  doom  or  privilege,  the   equal  dignity,   of  every 
human  creature.     The  gentleman  cannot  side  with 


240 


THK    AMERICAN    GKNTLKMAN. 


labor  against  capital  because  labor  is  but  the  prom- 
ise of  capital— capital  in  the  future.  Labor  is  the 
creature  of  capital  as  well  as  its  creator.  There  can 
be  no  controversy  between  the  two.  The  gentle- 
man stands  with  one  foot  on  one  and  the  other  foot 
on  the  other,  reconciling  them  both,  and  feeling  very 
sure  that  labor,  honest,  sincere,  faithful,  unremitting 
labor  of  whatever  kind  is  essential  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  all  wealth  whether  one  happens  individually 
to  enjoy  it  or  not.  Is  he  capitalist  he  will  not  abuse 
his  power  ;  is  he  laborer  he  will  not  bewail  his  weak- 
ness. 

But  more  than  this,  the  gentleman  believes  in  the 
substantial  ends  and  uses  of  labor.  He  has  no  faith 
in  noise  and  fury,  in  the  pounding  of  a  hammer  on 
an  idle  anvil,  in  the  fuss  of  the  politician,  in  the  vain 
and  futile  hurrying  to  and  fro  of  the  man  of  busi- 
ness who  with  much  ado  accomplishes  nothing.  He 
believes  that  no  labor  is  worth  a  straw  that  does  not 
accomplish  an  object,  that  does  not  make  its  con- 
tribution to  the  permanent  wealth  of  the  commun- 
ity, whether  it  be  the  toil  of  the  artisan,  the  effort 
of  the  thinker,  the  trained  ability  of  the  financier, 
the  politician,  the  statesman.  The  end  and  the  end 
alone,  in  his  apprehension,  sanctifies  the  means  and 
dignifies  the  use.  Honesty  is  the  basis  of  all  his 
respect.     That  labor  should  be  paid  for  and  in  hon- 


rHK    AMERICAN     GENTLEMAN. 


241 


est  measure  of  honest  money,  is  his  first  affirmation, 
his  absolute,  primary  demand.    Call  the  money  gold, 
call  it  silver,  call  it  paper,  what  you  may,  the  stamp 
must  carry  value,  a  value  that  will  hold  its  own  all 
over  the  civilized  world  ;  which  will   be  received  by 
Englishman,  Frenchman,  German,  which   will   pass 
current  among  men  of  all  conditions,  which   the   la- 
borer can  thankfully  take  as  his  reward,  which  the 
capitalist  can  honorably  pay   in   wages.       This,   this 
alone,   this  always,  the  gentleman  respects  and  he 
is  no  gentleman,  he  has  not  the  first   conception   of 
gentlemanliness,  who  will  take  less  than  this. 

For  the  gentleman  plants  himself  first  and  fore- 
most upon  regard  for  the  welfare  of  mankind.     He 
is  no  sectionalist  ;  he  is  not  pledged  to  the  interest 
of  Pennsylvania  on  the  one  side,  or  of  Colorado  and 
Nevada  on  the  other,  but  to  the  concerns  which  are 
precious    to  the  hearts  of  the  whole  country,  to  the 
essential  welfare  of  mankind.     Nothing  that   preju- 
dices or  impairs  this,  is,  in  his  estimate,  honorable  at 
all.       Everything    is  honorable  that  advances  this. 
If  a  man  contributes  but  a  mite  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow,  by  the  vigor  of  his  right  arm,  by  the  robust- 
ness of  his  frame,  he  makes  his  contribution  and  it 
is  as  valuable  as  any  other  if  it  is  offered  in  the  spirit 
of  simplicity  and  earnestness.     But  the  self-seeker, 
the  man  who,  for  any  cause  whatever  tries  to  divert 


242 


THE    AMKRICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


to  himself,  to  his  own  particular  interest  or  glory 
whatever  it  be  that  belongs  to  the  community  at 
large,  and  would  pull  down  another's  card  house  for 
the  sake  of  erecting  his  massive  stone  structure, 
never  can  be  entitled  to  that  grandest  designation, 
the  word  gentleman.  Pay  your  debts;  pay  them 
in  value  that  is  universally  recognized.  Then  will 
you  be  held  acquitted  of  obligation  as  far  as  one  can 
be.  But  if  you  pay  in  a  depreciated  coin,  even  the 
most  incidental  and  superficial  debt,  say  nothing  of 
the  sacred  debts  of  honor,  leave  out  of  considera- 
tion entirely  debts  which  the  nations  honor  is  pledg- 
ed, the  infamy  clings  to  every  fibre  of  the  man. 
There  is  but  one  ground  that  a  gentleman  can  take 
and  that  is  the  ground  of  willingness  to  sacrifice 
every  personal  comfort  and  convenience  for  the  sake 
of  standing  faithfully  by  his  word. 

One  thing  more  ;  the  American  gentleman  must 
have  a  live  mind.  He  must  think  and  enquire;  he 
must  be  interested  in  affairs.  He  must  not  be  so 
dainty  that  he  cannot  deal  in  politics,  cannot  go  into 
business,  cannot  be  immersed  in  mercantile  pursuits, 
cannot,  if  necessity  bids,  handle  pick  and  shovel. 
He  is  constrained  by  the  fact  of  his  gentleness, 
bound,  not  excused  by  that  fact,  to  do  his  utmost  to 
make  the  ambitions  of  life  honorable  and  virtuous. 
He  must  have  a  live  mind.      He   must  be   in   some 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN 


243 


sense  a  reformer.     He  must  be  interested  in  the  pro- 
jects which  help  on  the  welfare  of  the  community  in 
which  he  happens  to  live.     He  must  take  an  interest 
in  everything  that  is  going  forward,  civil,  social,  per- 
sonal, private.     His  mind  must   be   alive  to  every 
question  and  responsive  to  every  call.      Need   I  say 
he  must  be  a  man  of  warm   and   wide,  of  deep  and 
cordial  sympathies  ?  In  a  country  like  ours,  in  com- 
munities  like  ours  where  everything  is  to  be   done, 
where  want   utters  its  ceaseless   cries  and   poverty 
reaches  out  its  hand,  and  sorrow  makes  audible  its 
bitter  complaint,  where  there  are  old   wrongs  to  be 
righted  and  new  ills  to  be  averted,   measures  of    in- 
iquity  to   be   undone,   evils   to   be   corrected,  good 
things  to  be  vindicated,  right  principles  to   be  de- 
fended, can  he  afford  to  be   indifferent   to  anything 
that  deeply  concerns  his  fellow  men  ?  An  old   Latin 
poet,  a  Pagan  said,  ''  I  am  a  man   and   nothing   hu- 
man  is  foreign  to  my  sympathies." 

There  died  but  recently  in  our  own  community 
one  of  those  men  who  has  stood  for  years,  to  my 
thought,  as  perhaps  the  model  American  citizen,  the 
true  American  gentleman.  I  mean  Theodore  Roose. 
velt.  For  one  whole  week,  the  charitable  societies 
that  are  working  hardest  in  this  community,  met 
together  in  succession  to  pass  resolutions  of  praise 
and  honor  to  that  simple  citizen. 


244 


THE    AMERICAN    (lENTLEMAN. 


He  held  no  public  position.  He  wore  no  loud 
sounding  title.  He  claimed  no  preeminence.  He 
was  a  man  of  wealth  who  had  regard  for  those  who 
had  none.  He  was  a  man  prominent  in  the  social 
world,  who  carried  on  his  heart  the  humblest,  mean- 
est and  poorest  of  his  kind.  He  was  a  man  in  fash- 
ionable society  who  gave  every  Sunday  evening  for 
years  to  the  newsboys  in  their  lodging  house.  He 
was  a  man  of  strong  personal  sympathy,  generous, 
exuberant,  abundant,  who  gave  his  means  freely 
to  the  country  in  its  time  of  need ;  lavished  money 
for  the  soldiers  in  the  civil  war,  befriended  all  in- 
stitutions of  charity  in  the  city,  and  yet  bethought 
himself  how  he  could  do  it  most  wisely,  accomplish- 
ing the  least  harm  and  conferring  the  utmost 
benefit.  This  man,  one  of  the  largest  givers  in  the 
community,  was  by  all  acknowledgement,  the  wisest 
giver  in  the  community ;  studying  the  scientific 
laws,  devising  means  to  save  money,  studying  econo- 
my in  expenses,  seeking  to  diminish  the  wear  and  tear 
and  friction  of  the  benevolent  machinery.  It  was 
he  who  suggested  the  central  bureau  of  charities 
which  failed  by  reason  of  the  backwardness  of  or- 
ganizations to  enter  into  a  common  scheme.  Sim- 
ple in  his  manners,  unpretending,  mild,  gentle, 
brave  as  a  lion,  soft  as  a  maiden,  a  man  who  never 
spoke  a  rude  word  but  could  utter  words  on  occa- 


THE    AMERICAN    GExNTLExMAN, 


245 


sion  that  fell  like  thunderbolts  upon  moral  base- 
ness, Theodore  Roosevelt,  a  mere  American  citizen, 
an  American  all  over  and  through  and  through, 
never  boasting  of  what  he  did,  always  willing  to 
serve,  going  personally  about  the  meanest  ofifices  of 
philanthropy,  fulfilled  more  than  any  individual  I 
have  known,  the  idea  of  the  American  gentleman. 

There   is   one    more    attribute    of   the    American 
gentleman  which   must  be   mentioned:    the  super- 
iority  to   sectarian    distinctions ;    this   is  American. 
He  cannot  be  a  dogmatist ;  he  cannot  be  limited  in 
his  religious  sympathies.     The  church   that  he  be- 
longs to  must  be  really,  in   no   mean   sense  of  the 
phrase,  the  church  of  humanity.     He  may  call  him- 
self Catholic,  Episcopalian,  Presbyterian,  Methodist, 
Baptist,  what  not ;  he  may  go  to  any  church,  tem- 
ple, shrine,   or  to   none  whatever;    his  convictions 
may  be  clear,  intense,  so  intense  that  he,   for  his 
part,  cannot  understand  how  other  convictions  than 
his  own  can  be  a  ground-work  of  personal  noble- 
ness ;    and   yet,  while   holding  his  own  convictions 
thus    clearly   and     intensely,    while    building    upon 
them  all  his  private  hopes,  he  must  concede  towards 
others,  a7iy  others,  a/l  others,  the  same  right  that 
he  claims  for  himself,  to  hold  their  convictions  in 
their  own  fashion.     In  Catholic  countries  the  gen- 
tleman must  be  a  Catholic.     In   England  it  is  hard 


246 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


to  believe  that  a  dissenter  can  be  a  gentleman^ 
The  gentleman  must  belong  to  the  established 
church,  because  the  established  church  is  identical 
with  the  state ;  religion  therefore  in  a  manner  is 
synonymous  with  loyalty  to  the  government ;  it  is 
the  sentimental  aspect  of  the  English  constitution, 
it  is  the  spiritual  side  of  the  English  character. 
But  here  is  no  church.  We  are  not,  by  the  institu- 
tion of  government,  Catholics  or  Protestants,  or 
Christians  of  any  name.  The  same  law  spreads  its 
majestic  wings  over  Romanist  and  Lutheran,  over 
churchman  and  dissenter,  over  believer  in  trinity, 
and  believer  in  unity,  over  theist  and  over  athe- 
ist ;  and  it  rests  with  every  man's  conscience 
whether  he  will  profess  one  creed,  hold  one  opinion, 
avow  one  conviction  or  another,  or  indeed,  whether 
he  will  put  the  whole  matter  by.  The  gentleman 
stands  upon  personal  fidelity  to  himself;  the  law 
recognizes  this  and  this  alone  ;  the  gentleman 
therefore  plants  himself  upon  this  idea  as  the  spirit- 
ual basis  of  all  manly  character.  He  is  superior  to 
sectarian  envies,  jealousness  and  oppositions. 

When  you  see  a  dogmatist  you  see  one  who  has 
no  conception  of  the  significance  of  the  gentleman. 
When  you  see  a  bitter  sectarian,  you  see  one  who 
has  no  conception  of  the  gentlemanly  character. 
It  is  of  no  consequence   whether  the    person   indi- 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN.  247 

vidually  belongs  to  one  sect  or  another.  It  is  of 
absolute,  vital,  indestructible  consequence  that  a 
person  of  intelligence,  conscience,  heart,  should 
recognize  his  brother  and  sister,  whatever  belief 
may  be  avowed  or  disavowed.  The  man  is  more 
than  the  profession,  though  the  profession  be  a  pro- 
fession  of  belief  in  God  and  the  hereafter. 

The  phrase  -  Christian,"  usually  accompanies  the 
phrase ''gentleman,"  and  the  phrase  *' gentleman" 
is    almost    always    associated    with    the    name    of 
'^Christian."      We  speak  of  the  "Christian  gentle- 
man."      How    shall  we    interpret    the    expression.? 
Do  we   really    fancy  that    the   gentleman    and  the 
Christian  are  one  because  the  Christian  is  a  believer 
in  the  trinity.?      Do  we  mean  that  the  gentleman 
must  be  a  believer  in  total  depravity,  in  an  eternal 
hell,  that  there  is  no  gentleman  unless  there  be  be- 
lief in  the  damnation  of  infants.?  that  the  choicest 
refinement  of  our  humanity  involves  a  faith  in  the 
absolute  destruction  of    nine-tenths  of  the  human 
family.?     By  no  means.     When  the  term  "Christ- 
ian" and  the  term  "gentleman"  are  associated  to- 
gether, the  term  "Christian  "  is  taken  in  its  largest, 
not  in  its  smallest  sense.       It  means    Christian   in 
principle  and  sentiment ;  human   in  idea  conception 
and    {^ding.      When   the   old   dramatist,   Thomas 
Dekker,  called  Jesus  "  the  first  true  gentleman  that 


248 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


ever  breathed,"  what  did  he  have  in  mind  but  this? 
He   thought   of  the  Jesus  who    spoke    tender  and 
kind   words   to    the   woman    in    the   street,   whom 
others  despised;    the   man  who  sat   at   meat   with 
scorned  publicans,    and  those  whom  the  aristocratic 
conventional  circle  of  his  time   pronounced    infidel 
and  accursed  ;  the  man  who,  when  he  saw  that  the 
common  prostitute  needed  not  reproach  but  a  word 
of  encouragement,  spoke    to  her   the    word    of  en- 
couragement  though   he  did  it  in  the  presence  of 
Pharisees,    in    a     Pharisee's     house     as    he    sat   at 
meat  at  a  Pharasee's  table  where  he  was  a  guest  by 
a    Pharisee's    invitation.       The    gentleman    whom 
Thomas  Dekker  had  in  mind  was  the  man  who  went 
on  his   errand   of  mercy,  not  to  those  of  Judea  but 
into   the  wilderness,  into   the   country  of   the   Ger- 
o-esenes,  amonij  idolators  and  Pagans ;  the  man  who 
gave  the  noblest  statement  of  his  grandest  ideas  to 
a   woman,    a    Samaritan     woman,     whom    all    his 
country-people  would  have  detested  and  considered 
it  a  shame  to  speak  to  at  all ;  the  man  who,  in  all 
pure  minds  might  stand  to-day  as  the  personifica- 
tion  of  that   large  and  beautiful  manhood  which  is 
of  no  sect,  no  church,  no  religion,  but  of  mankind. 
Such  was  the  first  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed  ; 
well  might  one  say  so.     How  many  like  him  have 
breathed  since?  how  many  like  him  are  breathing 


THE    AMERICAN    GENTLEMAN. 


249 


to-day?     How  many  of  us  dare   to  call   ourselves 
gentlemen  after  this  majestic  type  ?     Not  one. 

But  there  is  not  the  meanest  of  us  all  who  may 
not  think  of  this  as  the  perfection  of  gentlemanliness. 
There  is  not  one  of  us  who  may  not  hold  the 
beautiful  conception  before  him.  Happy  he  who 
so  steadily  keeps  it  in  view  and  so  steadfastly  tries 
to  realize  it  that  the  light  and  beauty  and  glory  of 
it  he  may  possess  himself. 


THE    AMERICAN     LADY, 


Having  spoken  in  past  addresses  about  human- 
ity and  its  essential  constitution,  and  of  the  type  of 
character  which  best  adorns  it,  I  have  this  morn- 
ing to  say  something  about  that  crowning  grace  of 
all  humanity,  ladyhood.  I  choose  as  my  subject 
this  morning  the  American  lady  ;  not  from  any  de- 
sire certainly  to  make  a  sensation,  not  in  the  spirit 
of  eccentricity,  but  in  order  to  illustrate  what  seems 
to  me  the  most  complete  moral  attainment  of  our 
American  nature. 

The  peculiarity  of  American  life  is  visible  on  the 
surface  and  strikes  forcibly  anyone  that  has  ever 
visited  a  foreign  country.  The  American  does  not 
perceive  it,  never  having  known  the  opposite.  Ap- 
parent to  every  observing  eye  is  it  that  there  is 
here  an  external  uniformity;  that  there  are  no  or- 
ders or  distinctions  of  rank,  that  all  wear  the  same 
dress,  speak  the  same  language,  cultivate  the  same 
manners,  revere  the  same  customs  and  hold  the 
same   traditions.     As  we  look   over  the  surface  of 


252 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


American  society,  there  is  an  air  of  monotony,  a 
sameness  which  is  even  oppressive,  as  if  all  distinct- 
ions were  obliterated,  as  if  all  men  and  women 
were  reduced  to  one  uniform  plane.  A  glance  be- 
neath the  surface  of  American  life  reveals  the  fact 
that  this  comes  of  the  nature  of  our  institutions  and 
cardinal  principles.  We  see  that  there  is  one  law, 
in  intention  at  least  if  not  in  practice,  for  all  who 
are  entitled  to  call  themselves  citizens ;  that  there 
is  but  one  justice,  one  rule  of  equity,  one  standard 
of  conduct ;  that  all  are  nominally,  at  all  events, 
held  to  the  same  responsibility ;  that  all  confess 
the  same  obligation  ;  that  all,  therefore,  place  them- 
selves openly  in  public  presence,  upon  the  same 
level  of  human  beings. 

Look  deeper  than  this  and  it  becomes  evident 
that,  in  the  popular  apprehension,  certain  cardinal 
distinctions  are  becoming  neglected  and  even  ob- 
literated. An  impression  is  abroad  that  at  the 
bottom  all  men  and  women  are  reducible  to  the 
same  material ;  as  the  removal  of  dykes  and  dams 
allows  pieces  of  water  to  flow  together ;  as  the  re- 
moval of  fences  and  walls  throws  separate  proper- 
ties into  common  grounds  ;  so  the  destruction  of 
artificial  barriers  and  class  distinctions  in  America, 
encourages  a  feeling  of  promiscuousness  in  which 
moral   distinctions  are   submerged.     As  the  vulgar 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


253 


saying  is,   '*  one   is  as  good  as  another,  and  better 
too."     When  the  visible  barriers  have  been  for  een- 
erations  in  existence,   they  may  be    removed  and 
their  absence  hardly  be  noticed,  as  I   myself  have 
seen   illustrated   in    England,   that    old    aristocratic 
country  where  gentry  and   commonalty  have  been 
kept  apart  for  hundreds  of  years.     There,  one  may 
see  them   together  at  some  rural   festival,  in  com- 
plete unconsciousness  of  social  distinction,  no  super- 
ciliousness  on  the  one  hand,  no  obsequiousness  on 
the  other,  all  dressed  simply  and  neatly,  all  moving 
to  and   fro  together,  yet  all  quietly  mindful  of  cer- 
tain unseen  but  positive  restrictions  that  had  been 
made  ages   on  ages  ago,  and  had  become  a  part  of 
the  national  mind.     The  badges  and  imagery  could 
be  dispensed  with,  because  their  uses  had  been  ful- 
filled.     Nobody,  it  appeared,  thought  of  question- 
ing the  fact  that  some  were  more  intelligent,    culti- 
vated, refined,  worshipful,  more    beautiful    in    man- 
ners, more  noble  in  conduct,  more  gentle  in  disposi- 
tion   than    the    rest.      This    was   never   brought   in 
question.     It  never  occurred  either  to   those  who 
were  above  or  to  those  who  were  beneath,  because 
the  distinctions  were  so  ingrained  that  the  removal 
of  the  artificial  signs  of  them  was  never  felt.      As 
for  many  summers   the  ground   bears  the  mark  of 
the  ancient  pile  or  hedge  row,  so  society  shows  the 
trace  of  discarded  form.s. 


254 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


But,  in  a  democratic  S')ciety  like  ours,  where  so- 
cial distinctions  have  never  existed,  where  badges 
never  have  been  displayed,  and  class  distinctions 
are  traditions  of  some  obsolete  condition  of  man- 
kind, it  soon  comes  to  be  thought  that  all  men 
are  of  the  same  constitution,  that  all  women  are 
alike  in  dignity  and  consideration  ;  that  there 
should  be  one  condition  for  all.  And  yet,  the  fact 
is  insuperable  that  there  is  no  abolishing  cardinal 
distinctions,  that  destinies  must  follow  character, 
and  that  the  conditions  of  character  are  fixed.  Take 
away  fences  if  you  will ;  remove  land-marks ;  throw 
signs  and  badges  and  symbols  into  the  waste-basket ; 
call  all  men  gentlemen  and  all  women. ladies,  still  it 
remains  everlastingly  a  fundamental  truth  that  the 
difference  in  intellectual  and  moral  development,  in 
the  training  of  the  dispositions  in  temper,  culture, 
nobleness,  magnanimity,  in  all  the  qualities  that 
make  human  beings  is,  enormous.  The  difference 
between  the  balanced  citizen  and  the  outlaw ;  the 
difference  between  a  man  like  Theodore  Roosevelt^ 
who  held  all  he  had  and  all  he  was  at  the  disposi- 
tion of  society,  and  the  man  in  the  Tombs  or  in 
Ludlow  street  jail  who  has  plotted  for  a  livelihood, 
and  made  it  the  business  of  his  years  to  filch  from 
society  in  order  to  enrich  himself,  never  can  be  de- 
scribed  in   sober  language.      The   plunge  that  the 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


255 


waters  of  Niagara  make  from  the  turning  point 
over  the  cliff  down  into  the  abyss  below,  feebly  de- 
scribes the  moral  gulf  between  a  Ralph  Waldo  Em- 
erson on  the  one  side,  and  a  Quimbo  Appo  on  the 
other.  God  himself  could  not  obliterate  distinct- 
ions like  these.  They  are  deeper  than  intellectual; 
they  are  moral ;  they  are  spiritual ;  they  are  in  the 
nature  of  things.  If  it  were  not  so,  then,  alas,  for 
any  future  for  humanity  I  then  farewell  to  hope,  to 
anticipation,  to  aspirations,  farewell  to  the  strenu- 
ous effort  which  glorifies  and  sublimates  mankind  1 
The  doctrine  of  ''  natural  rights  "  looks,  on  analysis, 
inconsistent  with  itself ;  for  the  two  words  stand  at 
opposite  extremes  of  thought.  Rights  imply  du- 
ties, and  duties  imply  moral  responsibility,  reflect- 
ion, purpose.  We  are  reminded  of  the  fact,  every 
day,  that  all  men  are  not  alike,  that  all  women  are 
not  on  a  level.  Talk  as  much  as  we  may  about  the 
equality  in  which  mankind  are  created,  the  observa- 
tion of  life  tells  another  story.  We  know  that  this 
is  true  only  in  the  region  of  sentiment;  the  world 
of  idea,  hope,  vision.  The  belief  is  transcendental, 
spiritual.  The  glorious  doctrine  like  the  teaching 
of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  may  be  true  in  the 
millennium  ;  but  in  this  world  of  experience  and 
effort  it  is  not  true  without  great  qualification. 
I  divide  men  into  three  classes :    ma/es,  men,  and 


256 


THF,    AMERICAN     LADY. 


gcntlcuioi.      By   the    same,   rule    tlierc    are  fcinalcs. 
wojnni,  and   ladies.     These   are   distinguished    from 
one  another  by  inward  characteristics  more  sharply 
than   by  external   signs ;    and   the  abolition   of  the 
external  signs  calls  attention  to  the  real  distinction. 
The  distinction  of  a  female  is  her  sex,  a  discriminat- 
ing  fact   in   physiology  ;    but   even  that  may  be  re- 
duced  to   so  shadowy  a   line  that  it  can  hardly  be 
distinguished.     There  is  a  town  in  the  coal  region 
of  Western    England,  where  the  women  dress  like 
men    for   convenience  of   labor.     The   traveler  pas- 
sing through  the  place  fails  to  distinguish  the  men 
from   the    women.       There  are   females  among  us 
who,    in    voice,    manner,    temper,    habits,    use    of 
speech,  general  behavior,    are    in   no  wise  to  be  dis- 
tinguished   from     the    lowest,    coarsest,    and     most 
brutal  of  men.     Vice,  in  them,  has  a  tinnre  of  irross- 
ness  that  male  vice  has  not.     Without  cultivation 
or  a  dream  of  what  cultivation  may  be  ;    without 
sympathy,  compassion,  pity,  or  gentleness;  without 
fellow   feeling   for   their  own  kind  ;  without  tender- 
ness for  the  young,  the  forsaken,  the  suffering,  the 
sorrowing;  women  only  in  sex,  in  all  other  respects 
scarcely  human,  they  are  the  despair  of  the  philan- 
thropist.    We  see  them  as  we  walk  ;  we  know  who 
they  are   by  their   gait,  their  manner,   the   tones  of 
their  voice ;  we  meet  them  in  the  streets  night  and 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


257 


day,  and  instinctively  avoid  them.  Let  us  say  no 
more  about  these.  It  is  too  tragic  a  thought  to 
entertain. 

Next  we  come  to  women.  These  are  members 
of  the  sex  humanly  considered  but  higher  in  the 
rational  scale.  Here  we' rise  to  a  plane  above  that 
of  sex.  Here  we  reach  the  world  of  character, 
warmth,  feeling  for  truth  and  rectitude,  tenderness 
towards  innocence,  pity  for  suffering,  sympathy 
with  sorrow,  impulse  to  do  something  to  alleviate 
the  miseries  of  mankind.  There  may  not  be  culti- 
vation, training,  judgment,  steadiness  of  aim,  lofti- 
ness of  consecration,  wisdom  of  purpose,  or  fineness 
of  perception.  The  sympathy  maybe  unintelligent 
and  vague  ;  still  there  is  a  broad  feminine  element, 
an  element  of  humane  feeling  running  through  the 
nature  from  top  to  bottom,  directing  thoughts,  in- 
teresting feeling,  and  conferring  a  certain  moral 
dignity,  even  a  kind  of  spiritual  grace. 

Where  shall  I  borrow  language  to  describe  the 
lady?  She  is  hardly  perhaps  recognized  by  the 
peculiarity  of  sex,  that  lies  so  far  beneath  the  many 
layers  of  disciplined  refinement  and  cultivation. 
Instead  of  prettiness  of  coloring  and  handsomeness 
of  feature,  she  has  grace  and  beauty.  For  regular- 
ity of  countenance  hers  is  loveliness  of  expression 
that  irradiates  the  face,  shines  in  the  eye,  curves  the 


-^58 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


lines  of  the  lips ;  an  atmosphere  of  serenity  per- 
vades her  conduct.  She  is  self-possessed  and  com- 
posed. By  a  delicate  and  penetrating  intuition, 
she  feels  her  way  through  the  mazes  of  casuistry, 
until  she  arrives  at  the  essential  truth.  With  a 
wonderful  combination  of  tact  and  sympathy,  qual- 
ities which  always  go  together  and  accompany  her 
wherever  she  is,  she  controls  her  establishment  be 
it  small  or  large,  important  or  unimportant  without 
the  movement  of  a  finger,  without  the  raising  of  a 
voice,  without  a  frown  or  a  threat.  She  does  not 
strive  or  cry,  or  lift  up  her  voice.  The  bruised  reed 
she  will  not  break.  The  smoking  flax  she  will  not 
extinguish,  hoping  that  even  there  may  be  smolder- 
ing a  lambent  flame  which  should  be  encouraged. 
Her  very  presence  conveys  influence.  She  touches 
the  centers  of  motion,  acts  on  the  springs  of  con- 
duct, sways  people  when  they  do  not  feel  the  pres- 
sure of  authority,  moves  them  without  propelling, 
guides  them  aud  makes  them  glad  to  be  guided. 
Her  days  pass  serenely  on.  The  hours  are  counted 
by  the  benediction  she  sheds  by  her  voice  and  her 
presence.  Cares  become  blessed  and  labor  light 
and  burdens  not  wearisome  when  she  bestows  her 
smile,  and  life  glides  on  so  sweetly  that  its  murmur 
IS  not  heard. 

The   lady  is  the  woman,  trained   and   elaborated. 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


259 


i 
I 


There  are  two  roots  of  the   English  word  "lady." 
According  to  one  derivation,  it  means  the  woman 
who  is  /i/ted  up  above  the  ordinary  level  of  her 
kind, — the   woman   who   is  selected  by  a  person  of 
quality,  endowed,  privileged,  titled,  personally  and 
socially   eminent,   to   be   his    companion   and  help- 
meet, the  partner  and  joy  of  his  existence.     She  is 
distinguished  from  other  women  by  implication,  in- 
wardly as  well   as  outwardly,  not   only  by  wealth, 
position,   residence,  dress,  and   decorations,  by  the 
external   style   in  which   her  lord  allows  her  to  live, 
but    by    the    qualities    which    these    accompaniments 
denote.     In  this  sense,  the  word  '*  lady  "  has  but  a 
partial  significance  for  us,  for  we  have  no  lords  who 
can  create  ladies  by  marriage.     No  man  is  entitled 
to  raise  a  woman  to  his  eminence,  for  no  man  has  a 
recognised  eminence  except  as  his  character  creates 
one.     It  is  true  that   the  external  position  may  be 
counterfeited    in  America,  but   it   is  only  a  counter- 
feit.    Wealth,  ostentation,  display,    sumptuousness 
in  dress,  will  imitate  a  situation  which  has  no  char- 
acter  or  instituted    basis   to    support    it ;    many   a 
woman  will,  by  virtue,  rather  let  me  say  by  vice,  of 
material  appendages  which  she  can  hang  upon  her 
person,  strut  before  the  world  and    ape   a   nobility 
which  she  has  never  deserved   or  comprehended  ;  it 
is  the  foible  of  our  civilization,  the  foreigner's  dis- 


< 


26o 


THE    AMERICAN     LADY. 


gust.  Walk  through  the  streets  of  any  American 
city  and  you  will  see  preposterous  efforts  to  play 
the  lady  by  the  help  of  millinery,  on  the  part  of 
women,  who  never  had  the  faintest  conception  of 
what  ladyhood  means;  whose  eminence  of  superior- 
ity is  the  height  of  a  wardrobe  ;  whose  worth  con- 
sists in  the  ability  to  buy  men  and  women  ;  whose 
grandeur  is  a  faculty  for  making  others  feel  small. 

A  finer  type  of  ladyhood,  more  dignified  and 
beautiful,  is  the  delicate,  refined,  cultured  woman, 
who  withdraws  from  society,  lives  in  seclusion,  ac- 
complishes herself,  enriches  her  mind  with  refined 
and  graceful  studies,  and  makes  perfection  of  char- 
acter her  chief  aim.  This  type  of  ladyhood  is  often 
exceedingly  beautiful  and  fascinating,  and  yet  it 
falls  far  short  in  one  cardinal  respect,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  of  the  position  which  ladyhood  in  America 
should  hold. 

The  other  definition  of  the  word  "  lady "  the 
bread  giver,  is  needed  to  complete  the  first.  The 
lady  is  the  distributor  of  bread,  that  is,  the  mistress 
of  a  household,  the  head  of  an  establishment,  a 
source  of  bountifulness,  plenty,  grace,  consolation 
and  help  to  as  many  as  depend  upon  her. 
~  Very  charming  are  the  pictures  of  ladies  in  the 
olden  times,  in  the  bosoms  of  their  households,  giv- 
ing nurture  to  their  children,  cultivating  useful  arts, 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


:6i 


presiding  over  their  domestics,  keeping  accounts, 
embroidering  and  spinning  with  their  maids,  recon- 
ciling differences,  mitigating  troubles,  exercising  a 
gentle  restraint  and  influence  over  the  unruly  mem- 
bers of  the  kitchen  and  stable,  providing  the  graces 
of  hospitality,  standing  at  the  gate  and  distributing 
food  to  the  hungry,  visiting  the  tenantry  and  carry- 
ing the  beauty  of  a  sweet  presence  and  the  aid  of  a 
copious  bounty  to  dwellings  that  are  without  beauty 
or  humanity,  to  people  who  have  nothing  of  their 
own  ;  soothing  the  sick  child,  consoling  the  dying 
mother,  bringing  money  or  medicine,  or  tender  care, 
or  the  ministration  of  the  faithful  nurse  to  the  sick 
and  wretched.  Many  are  the  gracious  figures  that 
we  see  in  the  course  of  history,  gliding  through  a 
bleak,  barren  world,  laden  with  messages  of  good 
will. 

The  American  lady  cannot  follow  literally  this 
example,  for  she  has  no  tenantry ;  she  is  not  in  a 
position  of  afifluence  or  privilege  perhaps ;  has  no 
outward  advantage  above  her  fellows.  What  she 
has  to  distribute  may  be  simply  what  she  possesses 
in  herself,  her  earnestness,  sympathy,  courage,  devo- 
tion, sweetness  of  nature ;  and  she  must  distribute 
these,  not  in  the  external  or  ceremonious  w^ay  which 
was  imposed  upon  ladies  of  another  social  system, 
but  in  the  vital,  quick,  inspiriting  way  that  belongs 


262 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


to  a  republican  community.  For,  in  a  society  like 
ours,  where  all  are  associated  by  interest  and  for- 
tune, where  all  lead  essentially  the  same  lives  from 
day  to  day,  where  the  currents  of  influence  flow 
through  all  classes,  we  must  help  each  other.  Each 
must  bestow  actively  her  gift,  whatever  it  be, 
wealth,  strength,  character,  the  sentiment  of  justice, 
courage,  truth,  tenderness,  feeling  that  this  is  bread 
of  life.  Whatever  be  the  endowment,  it  is  due  to 
the  whole  community  that  the  possessor  of  it  should 
freely  bestow  it.  It  is,  on  this  noble  principle,  not 
permissible  in  a  society  like  ours,  that  anyone  pos- 
sessing a  grain  of  force  should  withhold  it  from  the 
common  treasury  of  humanity.  To  live  alone  and 
aloof  may  be  elegant,  beautiful,  attractive.  Is  it 
not  something  less  than  human? 

To  distribute  power, — How  shall  we  do  that? 
This  is  the  question.  There  are  heated  discussions 
going  on  among  us  in  regard  to  woman's  opportuni- 
ties for  work.  There  is  a  demand  that  women 
should  be  allowed  to  work.  Well !  certainly,  they 
should  have  the  right  if  they  wish  to  exercise  it. 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  nature  of  things  why  a 
woman,  simply  from  the  fact  of  her  being  a  woman, 
should  not  do  everything  she  can  do.  If  she  can 
paint  or  play,  or  act,  or  sing,  or  teach  ;  if  she  can 
write  books,  heal   diseases,  plead   causes,  or  preach 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


263 


the  gospel  of  peace  and  good  will,  in  God's  name 
why  should  she  not  do  it?  If  there  be  a  gift,  the 
possession  of  the  gift  entitles  to  work  for  its  exer- 
cise ;  nay,  demands  the  room.  If  there  be  a  talent, 
where  is  the  law  that  forbids  the  use  of  it,  that  de- 
fines the  limitations  of  genius  in  man  or  in  woman? 
Genius  acknowledges  no  sex.  Talent  knows  no  diff- 
erence between  male  and  female.  The  possession  of 
ability  is  a  call  from  heaven  to  go  forth  and  do  what 
the  ability  bids,  whether  it  be  to  cheer  a  sick  room 
as  nurse  or  physician,  to  stand  before  jurors  and 
plead  for  justice,  or  to  occupy  platforms  and  speak  of 
questions  that  concern  society,  the  character  of  in- 
dividuals, the  interest  of  communities,  the  relation 
of  human  beings  to  each  other,  or  to  invisible  pow- 
ers. A  privilege?  no,  a  right !  A  duty?  yes.  And 
for  my  part,  I  never  have  been  able  to  see  that 
there  was  room  for  discussion  here.  Since  women 
must  live  as  well  as  men,  they  may  claim  the  same 
right  which  men  have  to  earn  a  living.  Where 
there  is  the  human  power,  there  is  the  human  obli- 
gation. Work,  with  all  it  implies  of  labor  and  re- 
ward, of  discipline  and  honor,  is  woman's  due. 

Yet  I  must  confess  that,  to  me,  it  is  a  sad  and  on 
the  whole  a  deplorable  fact,  that  woman  is  com- 
pelled to  work  for  a  mere  living.  It  is  not  unhappily, 
a  question  as  to  whether  she  may.     Toil  is  imposed 


264 


IHK    AMKRIlAN    lady. 


upon  thousands.     Women,  in    modern  society  are 
subjected   to  the  same   necessity  with   men ;    they 
must  work  or  starve.     They  must  stand  upon  their 
own  feet ;  they  must    labor  with   their   own    hands, 
abide  the  stern  conditions  of  the  market,  pinch  and 
grind,  strain  every  fibre,  and  turn  to  account  every 
atom   of  force  they  possess  to  put  bread  into  their 
own  mouths,  and  perhaps  into  the  mouths  of  others, 
dependent  upon  them.     It  is  not  a  matter  of  choice. 
The  amateur   work-woman    is    not   discouraged,   is 
rather  commended!      Why  should   the  real  work- 
woman be  frowned  upon  ?     Why  should  necessity 
be  a  bar  to  service  ?     Who  shall  deny  the  plea  that 
woman  makes  when  she  is  starving  and  penniless? 
But  again  I  say  it  is  to  me  a  melancholy  necessity ; 
not  a  privilege,  on  the  whole,  but  an  infliction. 

The  old  scripture  speaks  of  labor  as  a  curse. 
There  is  a  sense  in  which  it  is  so ;  yes,  while  there 
is  a  noble  aspect  to  work,  an  esthetic  and  beautiful 
aspect  to  it,  as  well  as  a  heroic  and  sublime  aspect, 
there  is  a  side  that  is  base,  coarse  and  ignoble,  and 
that  side  in  the  world  of  toil  and  struggle  is  promin- 
ent.  Whoever  is  obliged  to  earn  a  livelihood  by 
hard,  constant  work,  must,  whether  man  or  woman, 
be  exposed  to  numberless  temptations  to  meanness, 
fraudulence,  covetousness,  duplicity,  which  create 
the   mercenary  character    and    inevitably  endanger 


THE    AMERICAN    EADV. 


265 


the  finest  qualities  of  humanity.  There  is  a  coarse- 
ning influence  in  all  work  done  for  pay.  Even  the 
artist,  living  as  far  as  one  can  live,  in  an  atmosphere 
of  pure  beauty,  painting  scenes  from  nature,  study- 
ing character  in  the  countenances  of  men  and 
women,  the  moment  it  is  a  question  of  selling  the 
picture,  the  moment  the  thought  of  the  market 
comes  in,  leaves  the  artist's  atmosphere,  and  be- 
comes a  trader,  a  mechanic ;  hence  it  is  that  so 
many  artists  disappoint  us  when  we  come  to  know 
them,  by  the  poor  mercenary  spirit  that  taints  their 
best  work. 

The  effort  of  the  present  age  is  to  refine  work,  to 
emancipate  men  from  its  drudgery,  to  deliver  from 
its  thraldom.  We  would  make  over  the  rougher, 
grosser,  more  degrading  menial  service  to  machin- 
ery, putting  it  upon  the  natural  forces,  assigning  it 
to  the  beasts.  We  would  reduce  the  hours  of  labor, 
and  thus  make  room  in  the  upper  spheres  of  intel- 
lect for  labor  that  shall  bring  into  play  the  finer 
sentiments,  the  more  etherial  capabilities  of  the 
mind.  This  we  are  doing  for  workingmen.  And 
are  we  willing  to  plunge  women  into  work  that  we 
ourselves  wish  to  escape  from  ?  For  my  own  part 
I  am  always  thankful  when  a  woman  of  mind  is 
able  to  leave  hireling  work  behind  and  to  devote 
herself  to   mental   accomplishment,   to    pursuits   of 


266 


THE    AMERICAN    LADV. 


refinement,  to  the  cultivation  of  intellectual  tastes, 
to  the  enriching  of  her  rational  being,  to  the  indul- 
gence of  her  higher  sensibilities,  to  the  beautifying 
of  her  own  character.     When  the  lady  is  immersed 
in  work  as  she  must  be  so  often,  it  will  of  course 
be   her  aim    not    to  lose    her  womanhood,   but    to 
keep  the  delicate  aroma  of  her  nature  from  evapor- 
ation, and  to   show   those   with   whom   she    laborst 
those  who  bear  with  her  the  same  hard  lot  in  life, 
how   possible  it   is  for  one   to   deal  with   the  hard, 
coarse  problems  of  existence,  and  yet   to  preserve 
the   fine   traits  of  character,  and  to  make  the  ele- 
ments of  dignity  and  sweetness  shine  through  the 
lot.     But   the   star  is  brightest  when  it  has  cleared 
itself  of  the  mist. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  that  other  claim  which 
is  made  for  American  women  in  these  days, — the 
claim  to  have  an  active  share  in  political  life?  It 
may  be  a  noble  ambition  that  asks  for  it,  that  de- 
mands permission  to  take  part  in  the  gloomiest 
scenes,  that  insists  on  the  right  to  descend  into  the 
arena,  and  fight  with  beasts.  Again,  let  it  be  said, 
if  any  claim  the  right,  there  is  nothing  in  the  genius 
of  American  ideas  or  institutions  to  forbid.  Why 
not  ?  Is  not  woman  a  person  ?  Is  she  not  a  holder 
of  property,  assessed  and  taxed  accordingly?  Is  it 
no  concern   of  hers   how  property  is  administered  ? 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


267 


Has  she  not  a  stake  in  the  public  law  ?  Is  she  not 
interested  in  the  efficiency  and  conduct  of  the  insti- 
tutions beneath  which  her  own  family  are  reared  ? 
Is  she  not  entitled  to  have  a  voice  in  the  practical 
operations  of  the  government  which  she  in  common 
with  man  obeys  ?  Most  assuredly  she  has.  And, 
if  she  chooses  to  do  it,  there  is  nothing  in  the 
genius  of  America  to  say  nay.  But  why  should  she 
esteem  this  a  privilege,  an  advancement  ?  If  work 
is  coarsening,  what  shall  we  say  of  practical  poli- 
tics? When  we  see  how  hard  it  is  for  the  firmest 
men,  the  most  massive  in  will,  the  most  complete 
in  training,  the  most  balanced  in  faculty,  the  most 
self-contained,  the  most  self-reliant,  the  best  born 
and  nurtured  in  moral  principle, — when  we  see  how 
hard  it  is  for  such  as  these  to  hold  their  own  against 
corruption,  to  preserve  their  courage,  their  frank- 
ness, their  sincerity,  their  personal  dignity,  even 
their  private  honor,  amid  the  complexities,  the 
deceits,  the  expediences,  the  meannesses  to  which 
they  are  exposed,  as  soon  as  they  step  over  the 
threshold  of  private  life  to  take  any  part  in  public 
affairs,  can  we  suppose  that  women  will  come  off 
unscathed  from  the  degrading  corroding  influences 
that  play  incessantly  against  character?  Can  we 
believe  that  the  causes  of  corruption  which  under- 
mine men  will  not  touch  at  all  women,  when  they  go 


268 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


into  the  field  ?  Can  we  believe  that  politics  will, 
all  at  once,  become  sublimated,  purified  and  glori- 
fied when  women  take  part  in  them  ?  It  seems  to 
me  reasonable  to  surmise  that  the  people  who  think 
so  never  can  have  looked  at  the  facts,  never  can 
have  considered  how  inevitable  it  must  be  that  a 
new  form  of  danger  will  be  introduced  into  political 
life,  danger  most  to  be  dreaded,  danger  to  good 
morals  in  every  form,  menacing  deceit,  trickery, 
maneuvering  such  as  now  is  not  exemplified,  even 
in  Washington.  Who  would  vote  for  having  more 
females  in  party  politics  ?  Who  would  approve  of 
an  eruption  into  partisan  ranks  of  tens  of  thousands 
of  women  without  character,  sympathy,  nobleness, 
intelligence,  without  an  idea  of  law,  or  a  clear  senti- 
ment of  justice,  or  a  conception  of  what  republican 
civilization  should  be?  Who  would  deliberately 
sanction  the  introduction  of  such  into  the  chicanery 
and  strife  of  the  political  world  ?  Would  we  have 
more  of  the  feminine  elements,  more  feeling,  more 
emotion,  more  softness  and  pliability  introduced 
into  a  business  where  we  need  masculine  virtue, 
and  more  than  we  can  get  ? 

But  what  place  shall  the  lady  have?  She  desires 
to  occupy  and  keep  whatever  place  is  hers.  She 
sees  the  danger  of  political  life,  and  dreads  it  for 
herself  and  others;  and  yet,  has  she   no  responsi- 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


269 


bility  for  the  condition  of  public  morals  and  decen- 
cies ?  Can  she  decline  taking  an  interest  in  the 
concerns  that  are  at  stake?  Can  she  refuse  to  do 
her  part  in  purifying  the  institutions,  elevating  the 
laws  and  refining  the  public  sentiment  which  de- 
cides the  destiny  of  society  ? 

The  influence  of  ladyhood  in  politics,  as  I  read 
history,  has  occasionally  been  most  salutary.  It 
has  stayed  violence,  mitigated  wrath,  restrained 
fraud.  There  are  instances  in  which,  by  their  tact, 
their  serenity,  their  simplicity,  their  sense  of  truth, 
their  superiority  to  low  aims,  their  swiftness  of 
moral  apprehension,  women  have  disarmed  cruelty, 
defeated  wiles,  and  led  unscrupulous  rulers  into 
ways  of  benignity,  peace  and  kindness.  True  wom- 
en can  do  as  much  now ;  standing  outside  of  the 
dusty  arena  they  can  meet  the  combatants  in  hours 
of  peace,  when  the  din  of  conflict  is  unheard,  and 
the  voice  of  reason  is  audible ;  when  party  passion 
is  still,  when  the  sharp  weapons  are  laid  down,  they 
can  exert  over  minds  those  soft  and  fine  persuasions 
which  elevate  and  convince,  but  never  wound.  I 
plead  for  these  purely  intellectual  influences,  these 
gracious  spiritual  offices,  in  this  American  society 
of  ours.  Not  more  women  in  politics,  but  more 
true  ladies  out  c?/ politics,  seems  to  be  the  demand 
of  the  hour ;  not  more  voices  in  the  legislative  halls. 


'270 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


but  more  hearts  and  consciences  in  homes  and 
drawing-rooms  is  the  need  ;  more  power  above  poli- 
tics, to  raise  their  character.  Let  the  demand  be 
for  the  height  of  womanhood,  where  womanhood 
holds  conceded  sway ;  men  will  say  ''  amen,"  to 
this,  and  for  this  I  plead.  Let  us  discourage  the 
disposition  to  merge  ladyhood  in  ordinary  wom- 
anhood, and  wornanhood  in  the  female.  Let  us 
encourage  the  culture  of  the  best  feminine  quality, 
striving  more  and  more,  with  a  most  hearty  resolve 
to  emancipate  ladyhood  and  womanhood  both  from 
the  rudimental  condition  of  sex. 

How  shall  ladyhood  be  cultivated  ?  That  is  the 
final  question.  In  past  times,  religion  has  probably 
done  more  for  woman's  spiritual  refinement  than  all 
other  causes  combined.  No  observant  traveller  in 
the  older  parts  of  Europe,  no  visitor  to  a  Protestant 
cathedral  from  which  the  symbols  of  superstition 
have  been  abolished,  seeing  how  the  purest  femin- 
ine sentiments  were  appealed  to,  how  the  most 
solemnizing  influences  were  brought  to  bear  on  the 
more  sensitive  parts  of  her  spiritual  nature,  can  fail 
to  appreciate  the  immense  power  that  religion,  sim- 
ply as  it  was  instituted,  precisely  as  presented  to 
the  eye  in  form  and  color,  must  have  exerted  on  a 
being  such  as  she  was.  The  lovely  delineations  of 
the  Heavenly  Father,  which  were  made  most  prom- 


f 

4 


THE    AMERICAN     LADY 


271 


inent,  the  gracious  form  of  the  Christ,  and  especially 
in  Catholic  churches,  the  exquisite  image  of  ever- 
lasting and  celestial  tenderness  presented  by  the 
Holy  Virgin,  who  presided  at  her  altar  always  ready 
to  listen  to  the  voice  of  complaint,  to  dry  the  tear 
of  misery,  to  give  ear  to  the  call  of  suffering,  and 
intercede  for  guilt,  could  not  fail  to  gw^  effect  to 
the  noblest  attributes  of  woman.  It  is  impossible 
that  women,  coming  as  so  many  did,  from  the  mean 
tenements  of  their  darkened  existence  into  this 
radiant  atmosphere,  should  not  be  bathed  at  once 
in  the  light  of  Deity.  They  could  not  despise  them- 
selves there. 

What  substitute  have  we  for  this  ?  God  has  be- 
come the  unknown,  and  the  unknowable.  Christ 
is  fading  into  mythology.  The  beautiful  lady  of 
mercy  is  a  fiction  ;  and  yet,  the  old  sweet  principles 
are  always  the  same.  There  are  the  over-arching 
heavens  of  sweet  and  lovely  sentiment.  In  the 
past  there  are  gracious  forms  of  men  and  women, 
whom  it  is  a  benediction  only  to  think  of;  and 
around  us  are  men  and  women  at  whose  feet  it  is  a 
privilege  to  kneel,  whose  hands  it  is  a  dignity  to 
kiss.  Look  to  these  immortal  ideals!  believe  that 
they  exist.  Come  as  near  as  you  can  to  them,  and 
let  the  gracious  inspiring  influences  of  their  souls  be 
a  benediction  and  a  power.     Then  as  Beatrice  drew 


s 


272 


THE    AMERICAN    LADY. 


with  her  loving  eyes  the  bewildered  Dante  towards 
Paradise,  as  Gretchen,  glorified  and  forgiven,  eman- 
cipated her  Faust,  the  eternal  in  womanhood  will 
lure  us  on. 


SSs..sa»i»A».*'ii»',»<a'; 


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